Draco Malfoy and the Philosophers Stone
by HiBob
Summary: That's why they're afraid of you, Draco. You're the Boy Who Lived.
1. The Boy Who Survived

Chaos Theory tells us that a butterfly flapping its wings in China can cause rain to fall in Central Park in New York. In essence, only one small thing needs to change in order to produce over time a dramatic result. In this story, one small thing did happen differently. And because of this, in an Alternate Universe, JK Rowling is best known as the author of:

**DRACO MALFOY AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE**

An alternate history of events compiled by Hibob

**Chapter 1: The Boy Who Survived**

**Prologue: Arrival**

The old man appeared at the end of the lane. He was wearing a robe much too fancy to be a bathrobe. And he had a beard so long that he needed to tuck it into his belt. His face held a ready smile beneath a long crooked nose, and his eyes had a twinkle to them. All of this would have been obvious to anyone who had seen him, but no one did.

He walked unnoticed to the entrance of Privet Drive and pulled a strange device from his pocket. He pointed it at a street lamp and clicked it. The lamp went dark. One by one, the lamps went out, leaving the street in darkness.

"So. It is true," a voice asked from the shadows.

The old man, Albus Dumbledore, smiled. "Why am I not surprised that Severus Snape should be here? Yes, my friend. The rumours are true."

A thin, harsh man with black shoulder length hair stepped into the open. The first thing he did was give a sarcastic laugh. "Is HE dead?"

"Dead? I think not. But it will be a long time before he can cause harm to anyone."

Snape stared sullenly. "And the Malfoys?"

Dumbledore nodded.

Snape looked Dumbledore in the eye. "They were my friends. In spite of everything, they were still my friends."

Dumbledore put a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. "Severus, I know they were hated by many, but I do wish things could have ended differently. At least the boy survived."

Snape sighed. "I had hoped that the rumours were lies. Even if it meant this war should continue. I knew either way you would come here. It was my best chance to find out. Was the boy hurt badly?"

"A scar on his forehead. It was his only injury."

"Albus, where is he?"

"Hagrid is bringing him."

"The giant?"

"You should know, Severus, that I would trust Hagrid with my life. Draco will not be hurt."

Snape looked at a particular house. "And what is to become of Draco?"

"I thought it best to have him raised by his aunt and uncle."

"But they're . . . the worst sort of people. I could take better care of him."

Dumbledore arched his eyebrow. "With your own legacy to bear? I told you I would stand by you, but I can only do so much. And they are his mother's closest relatives. Beside, it is better this way. Draco Malfoy will grow up far away from the infamy that is already gathering around his name. Until he is ready."

Severus Snape nodded. "Then there is nothing I can do."

"Nothing but wait." Dumbledore smiled at the man. "And while you are waiting, I could give you something to do. Our Potions Professor has been talking about retiring once the troubles were over. I'm sure your status will be resolved by then. And Severus . . ."

"Yes?"

"You will be there to greet Draco when he comes to the school."

Severus Snape smiled. For all the ill things that happened, there was something to look forward to.

* * *

**Prologue: Departure**

Draco awoke, his dreams unremembered. His arms were stiff from where he had been . . . from where he had fallen down the stairs. He had to remember it was his own fault. He was only supposed to pull up the weeds. It was his decision to pull up the flowers as well. And he couldn't explain why.

"Get dressed and in the kitchen AT ONCE."

The door flew open and Aunt Petunia grabbed him, dragging him off the cot. Draco picked himself up and dressed as quickly as he could. It was a small thin boy who stepped out of the cupboard that was his bedroom. He had blond hair long enough to cover his forehead and his only distinguishing feature. It was a scar, the remnant of an automobile accident that killed his parents five years before. He was scarcely more than a year old at the time. The scar was interesting only because it was shaped like a lightning bolt.

Draco had light blond hair that seemed to have a hint of red. In bright sunlight his hair showed with a golden hue. But it was his eyes that were his most striking feature. They were a bright emerald green.

Not that anyone saw very much of him. Draco had learned the rules long ago. Don't start up conversations. Don't answer personal questions. Don't talk to anybody. And thanks to Dudley, Draco never even had a chance to get around these rules. Dudley and his friends used Draco often as the source of their amusement. Shoving him from behind. Hitting him in the side. Any other form of harassment. No one ever stood up for Draco. Dudley wouldn't let them.

"GET OUT HERE?" Aunt Petunia called out. Draco could hear her in the kitchen with the frying pan. "Good, there you are. Watch the bacon doesn't burn. I want everything to be perfect for Dudley's birthday." For added emphasis, she smacked him on the side of the head.

Draco nodded as he rubbed his ear.

He pulled up the sleeves on the pullover he wore. It used to belong to Dudley. Dudley was Draco's cousin. He was older by a month, three inches taller, and fifty pounds heavier. And on this day Dudley turned seven. Everything that Draco had, everything he owned, used to belong to Dudley.

Draco sighed. Today was going to be worse than usual. And he was right.

Dudley made it a point to count the number of presents. Satisfied that there were more than last year, he chose the largest gift and opened it first. Breakfast was ignored for now. As he opened each gift, he would judge it carefully, then grab the next largest one. After the fifth gift he turned around and grabbed a slab of bacon and shoved it in his mouth. The rest of the time he would alternate between opening gifts and grabbing food, wiping his greasy hands on what would soon be Draco's new shirt.

Dudley whined about some of the gifts. Draco would have been happy with one. Then Aunt Petunia asked Uncle Vernon about the birthday trip. Uncle Vernon sat thinking for a moment.

"I suppose we could lock him in. With a sandwich, of course. Can't let him starve."

Twenty minutes later, Draco was back in his cupboard, with two slices of bread and a thin slice of ham. That would be all the food to last him until evening. His breakfast had ended up on Dudley's plate as an extra birthday treat.

Draco began to cry. It wasn't fair. It was so unfair that he couldn't stand it. He began to hit the door.

"Let me out."

Then he began to scream.

"LET ME OUT!"

No one heard him scream.

"LET ME OUT!"

No one ever did.

Draco kept hitting the door and screaming until he exhausted himself. He leaned back to catch his breath and . . .

The door opened.

Draco wiped his eyes. He stared at the open door. He listened but could hear no one. He hesitated.

"Thank you, Uncle Vernon?"

It paid to be careful.

"THANK YOU."

Draco looked out. There was no one. Draco stepped out of the cupboard. The door closed behind him. He tried the handle. The door was locked. He would need Uncle Vernon's key to get back in. What would Uncle Vernon do when he found Draco outside of . . .

A car was heard on the street outside. Draco froze. What if it was Uncle Vernon? How could he explain what happened?

He had no choice. He knew what he had to do. And he had to act now. With surprising courage, spurred on by an equal amount of fear, Draco opened the front door and stepped out. He walked down the street to the alleyway which led to the park. When he reached the park, he kept walking. He couldn't stay anymore. He had to find another place.

* * *

**Prologue: A New Life**

Draco did not notice the car that passed him on a regular basis, or the men inside. Nor did he notice as they parked the car on the next street. All Draco knew was that he had to keep walking. Otherwise, they might find him.

He stopped at the corner and waited for the light to change. He ignored the few stares from the lunchtime crowd, but they also ignored him for the most part. He crossed the street and continued walking. The man stepped in front of him.

"Hello, Sonny Jim. You've been walkin' quite a spell. You must be tired."

Draco stared vacantly at the man. He couldn't think of why the man would stop him. He simply stared as the man knelt in front of him, to look at him eye to eye. He vaguely noted that the man was wearing a uniform.

"See this," the man said as he pointed to his chest. "That's a badge. That mean's I'm supposed to help people. And this. That's me name. Givens." He smiled at Draco as friendly as he could. "Can I ask where you're goin'?"

Draco couldn't think of anything to say.

Givens sighed. "See here. You been walkin' an awful long way and," he pointed, "I have my car right here. Me an' the Sergeant will be more than happy to give you a lift."

Givens looked up at the sergeant when the boy didn't say anything. "Sir?"

"Could be an immigrant. Pole or Czech. May not understand us at all." The Sergeant made a specific point to look at the Draco's bare shoulder where the oversized jumper had slipped. The faded bruises.

Givens nodded, and turned back to the boy. He pointed at himself and said, "Andrew. Andrew." He pointed to the boy. Nothing. He pointed back to himself. "Andrew. My name is Andrew." He pointed to the boy. "Your name is . . ."

Draco stared at his hand.

"Your name is . . ."

"Du . . . Du . . . Draco."

Givens smiled. He took Draco's hand and gave it an exaggerated shake. "Hello, Draco. I am Andrew."

The boy looked at Givens with a sudden understanding. "Food? Please?"

It was the sergeant who spoke. With a surprisingly soft voice.

"We have plenty." Gingerly patting the boy, he added, "we'll take you there, right now."

* * *

Doctor Pamela Bennett looked at Draco carefully. 

"He had a ham and cheese in front of him a minute ago."

Draco felt Givens squeeze his shoulder. "I bet the next one lasts him just as long."

The doctor smiled when she saw Draco's lips flicker. "Did you drink your juice as well?"

Draco nodded.

"And when did you eat last? Was it yesterday? The day before? Longer?"

Draco had been staring at her. Then he looked away.

"I was only being curious. We'll see how well that sandwich sits before we get you more food." She looked at her clipboard. "Draco? Do you understand?"

Draco looked up again, and nodded. The food gave him some energy. Enough that he began to be scared. The doctor noticed.

"I'm going to help you, Draco," the doctor said quickly. She leaned forward and grabbed his hand, squeezing it for reassurance. "But I need to know if you need help. Have you ever had a checkup?"

Draco frowned as he shook his head.

"Well . . ." the doctor smirked. "It's going to be very easy. And it's going to be embarrassing." She added, coaxing, "Come along, I'll explain it to you." Having convinced Draco to follow her, Doctor Bennett nodded for the constable to follow as well. She would need an official witness.

They walked into a private room, and Doctor Bennett closed the door. She was looking at Draco with mixed emotions. Draco guessed that she was worried about what he might do.

"Draco. I need you to take off your clothes."

"Why?"

Nervousness became relief and surprise. "To examine you. I need to make sure there's nothing wrong with you, physically."

Draco looked at Constable Givens who nodded in turn. He thought briefly and decided it didn't matter. They fed him. They promised him more food. And he was too tired. He pulled off his jumper. He was wearing nothing underneath. Chest bare, he stood there and stared.

Constable Givens understood, and held out his hand. Draco handed him the jumper. He watched as the man examined it then placed it on a chair. Draco kicked off his trainers then undid the belt that held up the shorts he was wearing. Now naked, he handed the shorts to Givens, and waited.

Doctor Bennett sat him on the examination table and looked him over carefully, making note of every bruise and scrape and its possible cause. Then she led Draco to a side room, and showed him the shower.

"And this is soap. Draco, do you understand soap?"

Draco smiled, and the doctor made to grab his nose.

"I want you to be squeaky clean when you come out. We'll finish your exam, then we'll get you some clean clothes."

"Food?" Draco asked.

"There's plenty of beef stew waiting, but only for clean little boys."

Draco nodded. He would make sure he was completely clean.

He was washing himself a third time when the doctor finally made him stop. She told him he was clean enough.

"He's anxious for the food," Givens noted.

"Too anxious," Bennett admitted as she reexamined Draco's body, checked his pulse and his heart. She asked him to be brave as she took a blood sample with a needle. Then she pointed him to a chair. Draco smiled. Clean clothes.

* * *

It was during his first decent meal in a week that Draco made his mistake. The officer who found him was off duty and had stayed to make sure he was fine. 

"It's not every day I pick up a stray." Andrew Givens gave his best smile. "You do look a lot better, now. I guess it's the clothes."

Draco smiled as he looked up from his bowl. "I like the fact that they fit."

Andrew nodded his head. "I guess that's a good thing. Hey, do you want more of that stew. I'll get it for you."

"Thank you, Constable Givens."

"Call me Andrew. I'm off duty. This is a personal visit." He turned to get the stew then turned back."Oh, Draco, I forgot to ask. What is your last name?"

Draco froze. Draco knew what would happen if he told. They could find out who he was. They could send him back. He hung his head and didn't say anything.

Constable Givens was nice about it. He went for the stew and when he came back he stayed to talk to Draco for a while, to reassure the boy. At the end, he did ask the obvious question.

"Um, Draco, could I get a last name? It won't make a difference at this point. Your first name is not that common."

Draco said nothing at first. He had realized something. He only knew what his last name wasn't. He looked at Andrew with sad eyes. "I don't have one. I'm Draco. Only Draco."

That was his mistake. He showed emotion. He'd shown where he could be hurt. But he wasn't hurt. All he felt was a hand gently squeezing his shoulder.

"Don't worry, my boy. I'll tell the doctor to call you Atkins."

"Draco Atkins? Why Atkins?"

"How much have you read in your history books?"

Draco stiffened. Givens mentioned reading. It wasn't worthwhile for Draco to learn to read. "Not much."

"No matter. You remember the wars, at least."

Draco nodded. If everyone was quiet, he could hear the television or the radio from the cupboard. He heard about wars.

Givens gave the boy a smile, which helped reassure Draco that he had done nothing wrong. "Well. Back in World War One, the government drafted a lot of men for the army. When all the brand-new soldiers went for their training, they had to fill out all sorts of forms. And they were all given sample forms to show how to fill them out. Now, the name they used on those sample forms was Thomas Atkins. It's the reason British soldiers are called Tommies. And I figured since you already had a first name . . ."

Draco grinned. "I have a last name."

"And one you can be proud of."

Two weeks later Draco would learn of the results of the search. There was no record of him. He had never been reported missing.

* * *

A/N: In the past I have always completed a story first, then posted it at the rate of a chapter a day. I cannot do that with this story. I do not have enough time, anymore, at least until the end of the year. I will do my best to post new chapters at least every weekend and I will warn you if I suffer any delays. 


	2. Waking Up

A/N: I am a bit rushed to post this and still get to work. Thanks to all for reading.

**Chapter Two: Waking Up**

Draco awoke in a clean bed, in his own room. It was almost as small as the cupboard but it did have a window. He dressed in plain clothes, but they were clean and they fit well. Then he went to breakfast, with real food. There were people he could talk to, as long as he didn't mention the Dursleys, and people who would talk to him. He even had a friend, briefly. Most of the children stayed here for no more than a week, and Draco had been here for six days.

Miss Carmichael smiled as she entered the room. "How are you, Susan? Do you need anything?" She turned to the other girl. "Janet? Were you able to sleep? Good." Next she turned to him. "Draco, I need to talk to you after breakfast. We have a possible fosterage." She smiled as a hint of fear appeared on the boy's face. "You need to meet them, to see if they're acceptable."

"I'm almost done, Miss Carmichael."

Draco followed the middle-aged woman from the dining room, down a long hallway and into her office. He was mildly surprised to see the two people sitting there. They seemed younger than he expected.

"Draco, meet Mister and Missus Chapel. You would be their first foster child, if things work out."

"Mister Chapel," Draco said with a smile. "Missus Chapel."

"Such a polite boy," Missus Chapel said to her husband.

Mister Chapel held out his hand to Draco.

"Draco. You should be polite. Shake his hand."

"Sorry, Miss Carmichael. I've never done it before."

"That's quite all right," Mister Chapel said casually. "We just wanted to meet you first before we decided."

Draco nodded and Miss Carmichael asked him to wait outside. Draco closed the door behind him, and put his ear to the door.

Mister Chapel was speaking. ". . . just not knowing how to shake hands. Honey, you saw that scar."

It was Missus Chapel. "That wasn't from any automobile accident. Miss Carmichael, you said the boy had problems."

"He has been an angel since he's been here. He tends to take things literally but we haven't had any difficulties with him."

"It's just," Missus Chapel said, "we were expecting a safer child. We don't know wha . . ."

"You shouldn't be listening," Janice told Draco as she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Is it rude?" Draco asked.

"Did you like the things you were hearing?"

"No," Draco admitted.

"That's why," Janice told him. The thirteen-year-old girl looked down at him with his newly cropped hair. "They didn't want you."

"I don't know how to shake hands. And I have a bad scar." Draco sniffled. "I have problems."

The girl threw her arm around Draco's shoulder and led him away. "You don't have any problems. You're not going with those Yahoos."

"Yahoos?"

"Yeah. People who won't like you because they don't think they should. They're Yahoos." Janice rubbed his head. "I like your hair. All stubby and everything. It's just like mine."

"Miss Carmichael said it was to make sure I didn't have lice."

"Yeah, we're not allowed to have any pets here. We might get attached or something."

"Do lice make good pets?"

Janice laughed. "Not really. Draco, you are wonderful. Don't you know anything?"

Draco shook his head. He whispered, "I can't even read."

"I can," Janice bragged. "C'mon, I'll show you."

"Miss Carmichael said to wait."

"And we'll wait in my room. Or do you really want to stand around in the hallway all day."

* * *

Draco sat on the curb, lazily looking at the passing traffic. Occasionally, he would watch something or someone with interest. A tall red-haired man, almost eighteen, came out of the alleyway behind the boy, and smiled.

"Is this where ye been hidin'? I've been lookin' all over for ye. Mum and Dad are furious."

"Sorry, Mick," Draco said as he scrambled to his feet. He hung his head in embarrassment as they walked away and around the corner. After a couple of blocks, Mick patted the boy's shoulder to show there was no problem. Draco looked up and grinned. "Is it all up?"

Mick laughed. "It was sweet. Nobody heard a thing. They won't even notice for a while. It was all small stuff. And a bit of the bread and honey. You kept a good watch, Dragon."

Draco smiled. He always liked helping Mick. And Mick helped him out a few times as well. Like showing where to hit people so it would really hurt. When you're a throwaway, you have to use your fists more than average.

"Dragon," Mick asked as they turned down the street where the Home was. "You free later? I need you to make a delivery."

"After I eat? Or at night?"

"After supper is fine. This one can't be too late."

Draco nodded. He was always happy to help a friend.

"And, Dragon?"

Draco looked up.

"Janice told me you wanted something." He tugged his earlobe.

"Yeah. It makes me look mean."

"Maybe. But, here ye go."

Draco looked in his palm. Mick had given him a gold earring. "Is it real?"

"Solid gold coverin'. Guaranteed."

* * *

"He's such a bright boy, too," Miss Carmichael was telling the prospective couple. "When he first came here a year ago, he couldn't even read. And now he reads at almost a normal level for his age group."

"But," the nervousness came clearly through the door where Draco was listening. "The way he dresses. Work Boots? The leather vest? If he at least wore a shirt with it. And that earring. That isn't normal for a boy of eight."

Draco smirked. Miss Carmichael had told him dozens of times not to wear that earring. He stopped listening. That was another couple of Yahoos he wouldn't have to deal with.

Draco waited patiently for Miss Carmichael to call him in. The couple had left by another door. He smiled politely.

"Cut it, Draco. Those were good people."

"Very religious," Draco noted.

Miss Carmichael paused. "Very?"

Draco smiled. He had spotted something that she hadn't. He sat in the chair across from her desk and leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk and his head on his hands.

"There were two bibles in their car. I looked. And a wrapped package that was as big as a book."

"Being religious doesn't make someone a bad person."

"Did they say they were religious?"

Miss Carmichael conceded the point. "They did not. And that shows a lack of faith." She smiled when Draco smirked. "Had they told me I would have made them take you. It would have done you a world of good."

"MY UNC . . ." Draco started to say as he stood up.

It was Miss Carmichael who smirked. "Your uncle was religious. Isn't that what you were going to say? He isn't here. He won't be here. And if you ever tell me who he is . . ." her voice became calm and soothing, "I may have to become deaf for a few minutes." She motioned for Draco to sit down.

"Did you ever wonder why I let you dress like that? Why I never stopped Janice from encouraging you. You haven't worn a shirt since winter officially ended, except to go to school. And that is because you have to. And now you have an earring. Why haven't I made you dress like everyone else?"

Draco frowned. He had never thought that she was letting him do any of these things. "Don't know."

"Listen and learn," Miss Carmichael said patronizingly. "When you came here, you were completely hopeless. I couldn't even talk to you without scaring you half to death. You were willing to become anything I wanted. Just to please me. That's why I asked Janice to teach you to read."

Draco shook his head. That was his first week here. "But that couple. Janice told me . . ."

Miss Carmichael clapped her hands in delight. "Draco, don't you know? I don't want this to seem harsh, but no one wants to adopt you. Do you know why?"

"I k-know. Janice told me." Draco seemed on the verge of tears. "I-I'm too old. I've got a scar, and . . ."

"You don't want to be adopted."

Draco looked up, startled.

"You heard me. You don't want to be part of any family because you know what one family is like. I bet your uncle is the nicest person to meet if you're walking down the street. And most of the people you've met are very polite when you see them." Miss Carmichael adjusted her glasses. "And now, back to the question. Do you know why I let you dress like that?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Because you want to, Draco. Because it's your choice and it doesn't really cause any harm. And because it makes you feel a part of something. I think it's important that you feel that you belong somewhere. Even if that somewhere is here. Do you see?"

"But Janice . . . she doesn't want to be adopted either?"

"Did you just figure that out? You know, she seems a lot like someone else I know."

Draco smiled. "You mean me."

"It's not much of a family you've got, Draco, but between Janice and myself you have two people that you know you can trust. Even if you can only trust me to be here because I'm paid."

Miss Carmichael watched Draco as he tried to absorb everything he had been told. "You've been here almost a year now, and you have to learn to cope. And I think your first lesson went well. You've learned that you're already coping with things."

She dismissed Draco, then called him back. "I'm interviewing a new couple tomorrow morning. They've never fostered before. I'd like them to meet you." They shared smirks. "It may even work out."

* * *

Draco and Janice were sitting together on the step that qualified as a porch. Summer had come again and with it the summer holiday. They were watching the delivery man argue with Mahresa's mother across the street. The man was holding a small box.

"The ticket specifically states Payment upon Receipt." It was the third time the man had said this.

"But it's my husband's insulin. It should be covered by the Health Service."

"It isn't. Not this time." The delivery man took the package and walked back to his truck.

"My husband. He is diabetic. He needs his medicine."

Seeing that her words had no effect, the woman stormed into her house determined to call someone and yell at them. The delivery man walked to the back of his truck, unfazed by the emotional plea. If it was a paperwork error, it wasn't his fault anyway. He placed the box on one of the racks on the inside of the truck and began looking through his delivery sheets.

"Did you see that smirk?" Janice hissed to Draco. "He doesn't even care."

Draco didn't say anything. He was trying to control his own anger as well. He knew what it was like to be wronged by people who didn't care. He only wished he could steal that package and do the right thing with it. He only wished . . .

Draco suddenly clutched his chest as something hit it. It was the box. He looked up at Janice who was staring at him then at the truck then back again. She was the one who spotted the movement from the truck. She grabbed the box and put it behind Draco.

"Look calm," Janice said in a voice that was anything but.

Draco looked up. The delivery man was looking at the shelf where he had set the box. He glanced behind him at Draco and Janice. Seeing how far away they were, he ignored them. He looked briefly on the floor of the truck. After a minute, he shrugged and closed the back. After another minute, the truck drove away.

"What happened?" Draco asked, fearfully.

"You tell me," Janice replied. "I swear, that box flew out of the lorry all on its own and straight into your lap. Didn't you see?"

Draco shook his head. "I was . . ." Draco paused. He looked up at Janice. "I was thinking of ways to steal it."

Janice smiled. "Then you must have a guardian angel. C'mon."

Box in hand, they walked across the street. Mahresa and her mother were walking out.

"Do you believe this? Someone makes a mistake and we have to go all the way downtown. They do not care how much trouble they cause."

"Yes, Mama." Mahresa smiled at the welcome interruption. "Wotcha, Draco."

"Wotcha. Mahresa."

"She fancies you," Janice whispered.

"Does not," Draco whispered back. Meanwhile, he held up the box. "Excuse me, uh, er, mprph . . ."

Janice put her hand around Draco's neck and over his mouth. Mahresa and her mother were both staring at the box of medicine. "You won't believe this. It fell right off the lorry and that bloke drove away without even realizing it."

"It fell?" Mahresa asked, laughing when Draco, hand still covering his mouth, nodded in agreement.

"It fell," her mother said with authority. "And our thanks to both of you."

It was later, when they were in Draco's room, that Janice asked her question.

"I saw your look, Draco. You weren't half as surprised as you should have been. A box flying though the air for no reason should have freaked you out."

"I din't see it flying. I only felt it hit me."

Janice looked at him carefully. "We'll talk later."

After a week, it was as though Janice didn't even remember what happened. On the other hand, Mahresa always smiled at him whenever she saw him.

* * *

Draco awoke in a clean bed, in his own room. It was almost as small as a cupboard but it did have a window. It was HIS room. He put on his tattered robe and went to take his morning shower. Then he came back and dressed. Jeans and second-hand Doc Martins, leather vest but no shirt. Last of all, he put in his gold (plated) earring. Then he went to breakfast, with real food. There were people he could talk to. People who would talk to him. He even had a friend of sorts. Most of the children stayed here for no more than a week, and Draco had been here for two years.

Miss Carmichael smiled as she entered the room. "How are you, Draco? Do you need anything?" She turned to the girl. "Marabeth? Were you able to sleep? Good." Next she turned to him. "Davey, I need to talk to you after breakfast. We have a possible fosterage." She smiled as a hint of fear appeared on the boy's face. "You need to meet them, to see if they're acceptable."

"I'm almost done, Miss Carmichael."

Davey, almost six, watched Miss Carmichael walk away. He looked up at Draco with fear. "What will they do to me?"

Draco grinned and leaned into the boy. "They're going to find someone to love you."

"Really?"

"Don't you want to be loved?"

Draco laughed, and got up. He gave the boy a wave as he walked away. He headed upstairs and knocked on a door. "Janice? You missed breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

Draco opened the door. With Janice, asking first never occurred to him. She was sitting on her bed. It was obvious she had been crying but that it had been a while ago.

"What happened?"

Janice reached over and grabbed Draco into a hug. "It's Cherrie. You remember her."

"With the fancy car? And all those boyfriends? Is she still sick?"

"Yeah. And she won't get better. She had too many boyfriends."

Draco may have been nine, but he understood what Janice meant. Children in this neighborhood grew up faster than most. "I guess you won't be moving in with her."

"She has it bad, Draco. I'll be moving in to help her."

Draco nodded. Cherrie always talked about getting out. She wanted to move away, not go away. "I'll nick her somethin' pretty as a gift."

Janice shot him an angry look. "NO." She looked as surprised as Draco at her outburst. "Write her a nice letter. Something personal. She'll like that better. She doesn't care about trinkets anymore."

Draco nodded. It was time for him to leave.

* * *

"Merry Christmas, Constable Givens," Draco said politely.

The policeman glanced around the office. He had been here quite a few times before. Miss Carmichael was behind her desk with Draco sitting across from her. The girl, Janice, and her questionable choice of a boyfriend were standing to one side. Standing on the other side were the angry parents, another constable and a well-dressed man who looked like a barrister.

"You've still a week to go, young man. And for some people it will not be that merry."

"Why is this man here?" the barrister asked. "We already have the arresting officer."

"Arresting?" Givens asked. The fellow officer rolled his eyes in response. "Then why did I have to come here. All of you should have come to the station house."

"We are here out of courtesy," the barrister replied smoothly. "I am not anticipating a positive conclusion."

Givens smiled. "And with Draco, you shouldn't."

"He's obviously a disturbed child," the mother said. "But it seems that he's getting no medical care. And before you ask, I work in a hospital. I know what I'm talking about."

Givens ignored her. "Miss Carmichael?"

"Draco has been delinquent, again. According to the Parsells, he deliberately assaulted their son without cause."

"And according to Draco?"

"He agrees."

"You see," the woman said.

"Now, dear," her husband said unconvincingly.

"And why am I here?" Givens asked. Draco could tell he already knew the reason.

Miss Carmichael sighed. "Draco always answers your questions honestly, although I have no idea why."

Givens smiled. "The secret is to ask a question you know he will answer. Draco, what was the last thing the Parsells boy said to you before you struck him?"

"He didn't say anything to me."

Givens didn't bother looking at the Parsells and their barrister, all of whom were smirking.

"Ah," Givens said with an air of understanding. "He wasn't talking to you?"

"No, Sir," Draco said with a smirk of his own. "He din't even see me 'til I grabbed him. I wanted him facing me when I hit him."

"Was he talking to someone else, then?"

Draco nodded. He was also getting nervous. He knew where the conversation was going. He cringed when the Constable asked the next question.'

"Whom was he talking to?"

Draco hesitated.

"I'll make it easier," Givens offered. "Was he talking to a boy or a girl?"

"A girl," Draco answered. He was telling more than he wanted to.

"And one final question. Did she like the last thing he said to her?"

Draco answered only because it was the final question. "No." Givens smiled to let Draco know he was done and the boy visibly relaxed.

Draco did not know nor would he believe that he had a fixation about being wrong. He would be made aware of it soon enough, but that would be later. For now, he was curious how Constable Givens would try to vindicate him. That was something he found out at once.

Givens turned to the barrister. "The boy clearly admits his guilt, and just as clearly has no remorse about his actions. When you bring the case to court, please bring the girl with you as a witness. She can verify everything that happened. Your son can tell you her name, if he has not already done so. And I will personally escort the boy and process him myself." He turned to Miss Carmichael. "With your permission?"

Draco felt a hand hit his shoulder. He looked, and Mick's hand was pointing at the Parsells who were having a hurried discussion with the barrister. He turned back to Miss Carmichael when she called his name and indicated Constable Givens. Givens was holding a pair of handcuffs and assuring him it was only a formality.

"Officer," the barrister said with some embarrassment. "We will wait to decide on the proper course of action. We will let you know when we decide to press charges."

Givens nodded and put his handcuffs away. "You have a stay of execution, Draco. Make good use of it."

Draco grinned recklessly, then frowned when Givens glared at him. He remained where he was as the Parsells and the barrister left. Givens was looking at the door, waiting for it to close.

"Draco, what did Michael Parsells say to Mahresa?"

"He called her a dirty Paki. Mahresa told me it was an insult."

"It is."

Janice thumped his shoulder. "Good for you, Draco. I hope you knocked him down, and kicked him."

"Naw," Mick said cheerfully, "Dragon knows that knocking 'em down is enough."

"This wasn't a good thing," Miss Carmichael said. "What Draco did was wrong, regardless of the circumstances. He deliberately stuck another student on school property. The Parsells may not create any legal hassles, but they have already filed a complaint with the school's board."

"But he insulted a Paki," Mick pointed out.

"As have you," Miss Carmichael told him. "Just now."

"But there ain't no Paki's here."

She gave him a curious look. "Is that a requirement?"

Mick paused. Draco knew the young man was not one for deep thoughts, but Mick was clearly thinking. Draco frowned as Mick hung his head. "I guess not. I'm sorry."

Draco wasn't the only one surprised at Mick's sullen response. From the look on Given's face, even the constable was expecting some retort. And for some reason, Miss Carmichael was giving Mick a look of triumph.

Janice rubbed Mick's shoulder for comfort. Later, she would ask Mick why he backed down. And Draco would be there to listen.

* * *

"Why is it wrong?" Janice asked. "The Paki's weren't around to be insulted."

"It's . . ." Mick paused. He couldn't seem to make his point clear. It was becoming muddled in his mind. He was trying to explain something he didn't know how to put into words. "It's the way you talk. You're talking without thinking, and the words come out. Like that time we first met, and I laughed and called you a throwaway. You didn't jump for joy about that."

Janice remembered as her smile faded. "I hated you for months because of that. But I finally realized you didn't mean anything by it."

"It was a stupid thing to say."

Janice laughed it away. "You weren't thinking when you said it."

"Yeah. I didn't care either when I said it. I did it because I knew how you'd react. I thought it would be fun."

She paused at the point hit home. "Draco, did you follow that?"

"Um, yeah. I had one of those but the wheels fell off."

Janice and Mick rolled their eyes. "Draco, it's why you hit Mental Mikey."

"But I was thinking when I did that. I did it deliberately."

"You thought about it first?" Mick asked.

"Yeah. He wasn't insulting me."

"He fancies her," Janice told Mick.

"DO NOT," Draco yelled and stormed out of the room. Who cared why it was wrong to insult people. It was wrong. That's all he needed to know. And he DIDN'T fancy any girl.

* * *

Givens looked up from his desk with mild surprise.

"Are you turning yourself in, Draco?"

"I wanted to ask you a question."

"And you thought nothing of leaving school to come here?"

Draco gave his standard sullen look. "I never went. I been . . . been trying to get up the nerve to come here. I didn't know if you'd be here."

Givens nodded at the lie. "So you forgot that I told you I always do desk work on Tuesdays and Wednesdays if you need to talk to me? We'll talk while I give you a ride to school. You might as well attend a couple of your classes."

Draco followed him to the car, and waited until they had pulled out into traffic.

"Mick says that he said things to trick Janice into doing something."

"Something?" Givens asked carefully.

"Yeah. He called her a throwaway. He said he knew she'd get all mad."

Givens nodded. "And what did you want to know?"

"When I . . . Before I came here . . ." Draco's voice became small.

"Did your old family say things to trick you?" Draco nodded. "I imagine they did, Draco. Children like you are easy to manipulate." He saw the boy's face scrunch up at the word. "To manipulate is to make use of the knowledge of how a person acts in order to get them to react a certain way."

Draco nodded. "And they knew how I would react?"

"They raised you. They had plenty of time to figure it out. Even I know a few things about you. Should I tell you?"

Draco nodded again after a short pause.

"You react to any offense and, probably because of experience, you overreact."

"NO. I DON'T."

"You just did," Givens said softly. "You can't help it. In fact, you tend to overreact to any form of criticism, as you're doing now with that frown you're giving me."

Draco looked at his lap. "Should I apologize?"

In the same soft tone, Givens replied, "you should try to understand, Draco. You've heard the phrase, 'pressing someone's buttons'? That's what they were doing to you. They trained you to be quick to anger, to react without thinking and, worst of all, to assume the worst. You can't even stand to have someone tease you."

"That's not true. Janice . . ."

Givens nodded. "I've heard Janice talk to you. Any teasing she does is about the two of you. She always puts you in the same boat with her." A red light gave him the chance to look at Draco. "Did you understand what I meant by that? Janice never puts you down, she puts the both of you down. She sees you as being the same as her. And she's right."

Draco looked up at Givens in surprise. "The same as me?" Miss Carmichael had also told him that he and Janice were alike.

Givens nodded as he turned his attention back to driving. "You aren't alone in the world, young man. In fact, from what I've seen, you have too much company."

Givens' tone struck a cord in Draco. It was with distinct nervousness that he asked a question that had just occurred to him. "Miss Carmichael said you never came around before I was sent there?"

Draco watched as Andrew Givens moved his lower lip. That always meant that he was thinking.

"We're almost at the school, Draco."

"Mister Givens?"

"I'll talk to your teacher. To let her know that you didn't do anything wrong this time."

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "She won't believe you anyway."

It was only after Draco had walked into the school that he realized something. Givens had deliberately avoided answering his question. He turned to look up at the man walking with him.

"Sir."

Givens gave Draco a reassuring smile. "It might interest you to know, Draco, that I have a daughter the same age as Janice. Does that answer your question?"

"I suppose so," Draco replied as they walked to his classroom.


	3. Learning to Cope

A/N: Mandraco made an interesting point when noting that I still post before going to work. I started doing this for two reasons. I still used dial-up and things took forever in the afternoon that I rarely tried to load anything. As of two days ago, however, I upgraded to DSL. (I can now view videos without waiting twenty minutes or more. There's actually a world out there.) The effect of this on my postings will probably be nil as I am a creature of habit.

Mandraco also wondered why I wrote it. The reason is simple. Like everything else I write, this is an experiment to see how well I write in this genre. As with all the other stories I've posted, I am writing this for myself. (Not vanity, but truth. If I didn't want to write it I wouldn't. That's the problem. Saying it one way makes me seem pompous and the other way makes me look sophomoric i.e. simple minded.) Having said that, I am hoping to discover that my personal taste is appreciated by everyone else in the world. I can see it now, JK calls me and tells me she's having trouble with the ending; could I give her some ideas.

Back to reality, I am trying to write about an alternate universe where, at one point, one thing happened differently. All of these characters are supposed to be exactly the same people as in the original, except that the last ten years have been different. In some cases, it has been more than ten years. There are exceptions to this. At least two characters are not the same people, but that will be obvious. I would also like to note for Raziel Tepes that while I have some humourous bits in the story, I am trying for a more serious story.

In parting let me leave you with one of my favorite quotes: "Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana."

**Chapter Three: Learning to Cope**

Winter turned to Spring.

"How's school?" Mick asked him one day as the boy trudged by.

"It's school," Draco shrugged.

"Any trouble."

"No," Draco lied. He shrugged. "No more than you'd expect."

Mick grabbed Draco's neck playfully. "Anyone you want me to talk to? I'm good at making people understand."

Draco laughed. "I can take care of myself." He frowned at the look Mick gave him.

"I know you can, Dragon. As long as they're your size. And remember, you got me to help if anyone's too big for you."

It was a sullen Draco who nodded his head. He kept his head down as he asked his question. "Janice said the two of you went downtown today. To see . . . well . . ."

"It was a nice funeral," Mick told him. "Cherrie would have loved it knowin' she had all those friends."

In the silence that followed, a voice was heard from the end of the street. "CLEAR OFF, YOU . . ."

Mick was shouting before he could finish. "SHUT IT, NIGEL, OR YOU'RE TALKIN' TO ME." Mick snorted as Draco jumped. "It's cool, Dragon. It's cool."

Draco nodded. "Nigel told me those Paki's have no right to be here."

"Nigel's a horse's arse. He blames them for losing his job. He should blame himself. Too lazy to work."

"You don't work."

"Sure I do. At that garage my old man used to own." Mick smiled. "Don't have to. I have ways of making money. That job's so I have a way to explain it. You know that. Beside, I like tinkerin' with cars. And I don't put anyone down because they're a Paki or whatever. Remember that when you're a full-grown dragon."

Draco snorted. "Mahresa says we shouldn't call them that. It's an insult."

"She's right. But that's what I learned. I try to be right about it, but I don't curse myself for old habits." He looked at Draco. "You fancy her? She's your age."

"Why would I fancy a girl?"

"How old are you?"

"Ten."

"If you don't know the answer in five years, I'll explain it to you."

"Why do you like Janice?"

Mick gave Draco a hard look. "Don't go repeatin' any of this. Especially to that Givens who likes to come around."

Draco pinched his lips closed, then smiled.

"She helps me out with things. Things that help me make money. That why I first got to like her. And now, she's old enough for me to think of other things."

"Other things?" He looked up as Mick snorted, and frowned, "I know. Ask in five years."

"You're smart. You already figured it out, I bet."

"But I'm only ten," Draco said innocently.

"Dragon, does Janice like me?"

Draco frowned at the strange question. "Yeah. You know that."

Mick snorted. "But does she talk about me, you know, say things about me?"

Draco's eyes widened. "You fancy her?"

"Answer my question first. Does she fancy me?"

Draco paused then tried to think. "I guess she does. She talks about the two of you going off to do something."

Mick smiled, and Draco knew there was something he didn't understand fully. But he promised himself he wouldn't take five years to figure it out.

"Mick. Do you need my help for anythin', tonight?"

Mick paused. "No, I won't be doing anythin', Maybe not for a few days."

Draco shuffled nervously. "You talked to Janice?"

"'Bout what?"

"She's don't want me helpin' you anymore."

Mick gave him a thoughtful expression. "She liked Cherrie a lot, Dragon. Her dyin' scared her. We'll both hang low for a bit."

Draco nodded his head then turned to continue his way. He had the feeling that he wouldn't be helping Mick any time soon. Something had changed. And it was something more than fancying a girl.

* * *

Draco tried to slip inside as quietly as possible. It didn't help. The first person to spot him said that Miss Carmichael was in her office. He walked down the long hallway and knocked on the door.

"Come in, Draco, and sit down."

Draco walked in and Miss Carmichael looked up.

"On second thought, remain standing. How did you get so filthy?"

"I was with Mick. At the garage."

Andrew Givens gave him a smile. "A much better idea than coming straight back here. It gives us a chance to talk things out together."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Trouble?" Miss Carmichael asked. "Why would you be in trouble? All you did was break Michael Parsells' nose with your fist while the teacher was watching."

Draco hung his head. "How much trouble?"

"You have plenty of time to spend with Mick. You've been forbidden to return to the school. And you have Officer Givens to thank for that. The Parsells were set to file charges this time until he talked to them."

Givens glared when Draco tried to smile. "Michael Parsells is his own worst enemy, young man. That is the reason his parents will not pursue this matter. On the other hand, you can expect to be going away to school, next year. Have you ever heard of Saint Brutus' Academy?"

Draco had heard. A jail by any other name . . . but you didn't have to be convicted to be sent there. "It's what I deserve, Sir."

Givens groaned and turned his back. It was Miss Carmichael who continued the conversation. "No one deserves that, Draco, as you well know. What you do deserve is a chance to prove yourself. You were warned not to let that boy provoke you. And yet that is exactly what you did. You've made a mess of things, and I don't know if I can help you. All you've done is make the Parsells boy happy."

Draco took a deep breath. After a few more admonitions he was let go. He washed himself clean and changed his clothes. Then he sat in his room. Janice had left. He had no one to talk to.

* * *

Mick was laughing as Draco struggled with the bolt.

"Use a longer handle, Dragon. Ye'll get the torque ye need. Or ye could wait to grow another foot or two."

Draco crawled out from under the bonnet and went to the tool case, when Mick called him back.

"Ye had lunch, yet? Sit down. It's my treat."

Draco said his thanks and unrolled the greasy newspaper sitting on the corner table. Mick's garage wasn't very big, but it was enough for his own business. At twenty, he had a good chance if making a go of things.

"Been thinkin', Dragon," Mick said as he sat down next to Draco. "School's out for everybody now, not just you. How'd you like to work here? Full time."

Draco stared. "But I'm only ten. I can't do that." He took a careful bite of his fish. "I'd love to, though."

Mick laughed. "Well, there's ways and there's ways. I've been askin' people questions. Seems the government's got this program. Alternative education. I put in an application."

"Whot? I learn to fix cars instead of writin' book reports?" He added smugly, "like they'll really let me do that."

Mick pointed to the car that Draco had been struggling with. "See that car. Headmaster owns it. You know. That fancy school east of here."

"Mick, it don't make sense."

"It does. Look, I get them to make me responsible for you. I teach you the business and see you get taught what you need to know." Mick was grinning. "And I've got an in. I been talkin' with that headmaster. He's lookin' at setting up a class on auto repairs. I'll teach three days a week . . ." His grin widened. ". . . you've got a new school."

Draco stared in disbelief. "He's makin' you a teacher?"

"He might," Mick said warily. "We was talkin'."

"Might not. Bet he was lookin' for a break on the cost."

"Maybe that, too. But I know about Saint Brutus. I'll even help you skive off if it comes to that. But I haven't put my request in, yet. They need to approve you first."

"First. For what?"

Mick leaned over. "I told you, Dragon. Alternative Education. If they take ye, you get another option anyway."

"You put my name in?" Draco was surprised at the thought. "Thanks."

* * *

Draco awoke in a clean bed, in his own room. It was almost as small as a cupboard but it did have a window. But it was HIS room. He put on his tattered robe and went to take his morning shower. Then he came back and dressed. Jeans and second-hand Doc Martins, leather vest but no shirt. Last of all, he put in his gold (plated) earring. Then he went to breakfast, with real food. There were people he could talk to people who would talk to him. He even had a friend of sorts. Most of the children stayed here for no more than a week, and Draco had been here for three years.

Miss Carmichael smiled as she entered the room. "How are you, Clarice? Do you need anything?" She turned to the boy. "Jamal? Were you able to sleep? Good." Next she turned to him. "Draco, I need to talk to you after breakfast. We may have a possible placement for you." She smiled as a hint of interest appeared on the boy's face. "I need to talk to you about it. To see if it's acceptable."

"I'm almost done, Miss Carmichael."

"Placement?" Clarice asked.

Draco shrugged. "I'll let you know."

Draco walked down the long hallway and into Miss Carmichael's office. It was a trip he had made too many times. Miss Carmichael pointed, and Draco sat down.

"Is it about school?" Draco asked.

"You are perceptive."

"You said you had a placement instead of a fosterage."

Draco felt a sense of pride when Miss Carmichael smiled at him. He had thought about a situation and come up with a logical conclusion. On the other hand, he also needed to find a new school. He had been escorted from the school grounds with orders not to return.

Miss Carmichael seemed to follow Draco's thoughts. "You finished enough of the school year to get credit for it, be thankful for that. But it seems you filed an application with the Department of Education and Science. As part of an alternative education program."

Draco looked up in mild surprise. Mick had told him about that. And told him that his own proposal was rejected. He didn't get the teaching job either, but he did give school staff ten percent off, just in case.

"Mick found out about it. He put my name in."

"Mick Kowaleski? He actually did something decent?" Miss Carmichael shook her head. "That's a surprise."

"He heard about Saint Brutus," Draco admitted.

"THAT is no surprise, considering he spent two years there." Miss Carmichael smiled with understanding at Draco's surprise. "You might mention that I'm reconsidering my opinion of him. And I might as well tell you the results of what he's done.

"The Alternative Education Board has sent me a notice that they are entertaining applicants for special placement at certain select boarding schools. We're not talking about scholarships per se, Draco. The Board receives offers for hardship cases from quite a few schools. For cases where a student needs to be someplace. For cases like yours. Someone goes through the files and pairs up a prospective student with a school." She gave him a copy of the letter. "You can refuse of course, but you should seriously consider it."

"Would they really let me go to some posh boarding school with a bunch of rich kids?"

Miss Carmichael grinned mischievously. "Not if they know the truth about you, but I am willing to lie as much as I have to." She smiled as Draco laughed. "Let me be a bit more honest, dear. Nothing may come of this. There are always more children than schools. But if you are lucky enough to be offered a place, it could be a stepping stone to a much better future for you. Your dreams of what you would like to do when you grow up could easily become a reality."

Draco nodded. Considering his other option, he didn't have much choice. "I'd like to give it a try."

Miss Carmichael handed him a form. "Then all I need is your signature. Read it first, of course. And sign it with your full name."

Draco took the form, and a pen. He didn't bother reading it. He merely signed his name: Draco Atkins.

As Draco handed the signed form back, Miss Carmichael smiled at him. "Now all we need is luck."


	4. A New School

A/N: As I have been using the response feature on reviews to answer some questions asked me, I find I have very little to say at this point, even though I have plenty of time. A sick day is wonderful in that respect, except for the being sick part. As it is, I did not have a chance to thank Badluck for the review. Let me do so now. And thank you to everyone else who has been reading.

Let me leave you all with this famous quote. I was reading that the American born Lady Astor was first elected to Parliament during this last week in History. While she personally could not stand him, they shared the same social circles, and Lady Astor was forced to spend a significant amount of time with Winston Churchill. At one point, annoyed at what she considered his unrefined habits, she came out with the statement: "Sir, if you were my husband I'd poison your tea."

To which Winston Churchill replied, "Madam, if I were your husband I'd drink it."

**Chapter 4: A New School**

Draco was staring at the clock. The second hand raced up to the twelve and passed it. Another day had ended and a special day had begun. It was August First. Draco Atkins was officially eleven years old. He lay back in his bed and sighed. He had never told anyone about his birthday. There would be no cake and presents for him. (Not that there ever was.) No one would sing Happy Birthday, for which Draco was always secretly grateful. Because there was one very good thing. No one would ridicule him. No one was there anymore to make some remark. No one would go out of his way to torture him. (Don't forget the birthday whacks. Nice and hard.) No one would give him extra work to do just to keep him in his place.

All in all, Draco thought as he remembered what he could of the last few years, it was going to be another wonderful birthday.

In the morning, Draco dressed and went downstairs to eat. After he finished breakfast, Miss Carmichael called him into the office.

"We received a call from the Department of Education and Science, Draco. It concerns you."

Draco gave a happily surprised look. "Me?"

Miss Carmichael nodded as she handed him the notice. "It concerns your schooling. Someone will be stopping by to see you this afternoon. He wants to interview you for a possible placement."

Draco took the letter and read it. His eyes narrowed noticeably when he read the name of the school. "I've never heard of this place. Is it in the West End?"

Miss Carmichael laughed at Draco's remark. "I've asked about the Hogwarts School. It's a small public school in the borderlands of Scotland. I was told that it sits on a hill overlooking one of the many lakes in the area. There is a constant demand but each year they always set aside at least one place."

"One place?"

"Yes, dear. And this year, the place is being offered to you. That is why you're being interviewed."

Draco couldn't help getting excited. "Scotland? What should I say in the interview?"

"Isn't it obvious, Draco? You should lie through your teeth. Tell him how happy you are to have the chance of an educational challenge."

"I'll do it," Draco said strongly.

Miss Carmichael beamed at Draco, and the boy knew why. For years, she had tried to teach him not to react automatically to any criticism or joke. For the first time, he didn't become resentful. He understood the humor and reacted in kind.

* * *

Draco was sitting on his bed, reading while he waited. He had removed his vest but hadn't put on his shirt and tie. He wanted to wait until the last minute least he wrinkle the shirt. He wanted to look his best.

The door opened.

A stern woman with her hair tied into a bun was looking at him. She was wearing a long emerald green dress. Draco couldn't help noting that it was the same color as his eyes.

"Typical boy. Lying around half naked. At least your room is tidy enough." She looked him in the eye. "And you must be . . . Draco."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Draco scrambled off the bed and grabbed for his shirt but paused. The woman wasn't laughing at him but was watching him carefully. Draco stopped, shirt in hand, and asked, "Who are you? Are you from the Ministry?"

"I wanted to see you in more natural surroundings," the woman explained. "A formal interview only tells me how well you can dress up. I wanted to know more about the real boy."

Draco sat down on the bed after putting his shirt back on the post. "I don't like havin' to wear a shirt, anyway. Not when it's hot."

The woman nodded. "That is understandable. And I suppose we should have introductions. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I am the Assistant Headmistress for Hogwarts. And I already know that you are Draco Malfoy."

"Who?"

"I said I was . . ."

"Yeah, McGonagall, Lady. But who did you say I was?"

The woman frowned. "I was told that you were Draco Malfoy."

Draco snorted. "Never met another Draco before. Seems you've got the wrong one." He held out his hand. "Draco Atkins, at yer service, Professor."

McGonagall looked at the envelope she was holding and frowned. She pulled out a thin straight stick and then smiled. "It was my mistake, Master Atkins. I was misinformed." She tapped the envelope with the stick and handed it to Draco. "This is your formal letter of acceptance. If you want to read it, I'll wait for an answer."

"Answer's yes, Professor. You don't know my other option." Draco looked at the front of the envelope and frowned. He looked up at McGonagall and then back at his letter. It was addressed to Draco Atkins. Why would she be confused? If she had the letter, how could she get his name wrong. He opened it and began to read:

_This is to inform you that you have been accepted to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and _

"Wizardry? Is this a joke?"

"If you notice, young man. I'm not laughing."

"Right. And that stick's really a magic wand."

"What a remarkable bright boy you are." She sat down next to him on the bed. "Would you like some tea while we discuss the matter?"

Draco saw her wave the wand.

"Bloody hell!"

A small table appeared in front of them. On it was a tea service. When he looked, McGonagall was smiling at him. "I will take that as a yes. Would you like lemon?"

"Uh, yes."

A surprised Draco took the proffered cup and sipped slowly. The tea was hot, but it was obviously better than any he had ever had.

"There are some conditions, young man, if you are to attend our school."

"Conditions?"

"Magic isn't to be bandied about. You will tell no one the nature of the school or about magic. Is that understood?"

Draco looked at the cup in his hand and smiled. "Sure. I'm good at keeping secrets. What else?"

"Oh, where to start." McGonagall gave Draco a disapproving tone. "There is the subject of your attitude. I should note that you've had numerous complaints about missing school and about fighting on school property. Known association with a thief and running errands concerning the transfer of stolen goods." She looked at Draco curiously. "There is also the matter of your personal acts of theft."

This wasn't what he expected. McGonagall seemed to know everything about him. "How do you know all that?" He didn't want to ask the other question: If she knew all that, why was she interested in him?

"Magic, Draco. You should have guessed that by now. I must ask you to cease associating with such people and to no longer steal."

Draco laughed. The woman didn't know everything. "My friend the thief, I'll have you know, has become an honest man and a reliable tradesman. If this school don't work out, he's sworn to teach me to be a mechanic."

Draco knew she didn't believe him. But he knew how to make her doubt. He didn't have to mention Cherrie or Janice's promise to her. He was never as innocent as he appeared.

"He fancies this girl, Janice. She likes him but she din't like his old job." Draco paused, then added with emphasis. "He really fancies her."

McGonagall nodded. "And your personal activities."

"Look, lady . . ." He stopped abruptly at McGonagall's glare. "Sorry . . . Professor . . . I ain't the most honest bloke you'll ever meet, but when I give my word I keep it. An' you have my word that I won't ever nick anything again . . . unless I need to."

McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "Unless you need to?"

"You never know," Draco answered. "I'd rather leave myself an out than outright lie to you. I won't steal without a good reason. And you can go to the bank with that."

"Then that leaves the subject of restitution."

"They dropped the charges."

McGonagall scowled at Draco. "Restitution means to make amends. I want you to give back the things you stole."

"Can't. Either ate it, spent it or gave it away. An' I never stole nuthin that would be missed . . . much. Beside, if I start bein' nice to people, they'll know somethin' funny was up. They'd all want to know why. And you told me I couldn't tell." Draco sniffed as though he was going to cry. "I already said I wouldn't do it no more."

McGonagall waited for Draco to look up. "The tearful tone was very convincing. You must have practiced. I'll see that the arrangements are made for you to attend the school. In the meantime, do what you can."

Professor McGonagall waved her wand and the tea service disappeared. She said goodbye and left the room. Draco could only stare after her. It all seemed like a dream except for the teacup he was holding. He finished the tea and sat the cup down on the small night stand.

* * *

Draco made his way downstairs to be told that Miss Carmichael wanted to speak to him. Once again he walked down the long hallway to her office. He knocked on the door,

"Come in, Draco."

Draco walked in and sat down in the chair across from the desk.

"My alarm clock ain't workin'."

"Did that Professor McGonagall break it?"

"No. After she left, I noticed it wasn't workin'. Is she still here?"

"She's already gone, Draco. She told me the interview went well and she gave me the forms you need to fill out for the ministry." She handed him several sheets of paper and a pen. "Also, tomorrow morning, someone from the government will stop by to take you shopping."

"Shopping," Draco asked as he looked up from the papers he was handed.

"School uniform, books, supplies. You're fortunate, Draco, this is an all expense paid trip."

Draco sighed. Then he settled in to fill out the forms. He paused as he noticed everything was already filled out except for his name. "Miss Carmichael, about the forms?"

"Is it about your name? I noted that, and asked the reason. They leave that blank because they need your full name. All you need do is put down your name and sign the last page. Read it first, of course. And sign it with your full name. Draco Atkins."

"Miss Carmichael, could I ask you? About my name."

"Yes dear."

"I know I'm called Atkins because I never had a last name but . . . it's stupid."

"Tell me anyway."

Draco bit his lip. This wasn't the first official document he ever signed. He had signed Draco Atkins many times, but mostly for school papers and such.

"Can I have a different last name?"

Miss Carmichael eyed Draco carefully, causing to boy to worry if he had said something wrong.

"Not something outlandish I hope. Could I ask why, Draco?"

Draco didn't know how to explain it. That professor had said it. She came to talk to Draco _Malfoy_, but when he corrected her, she still wanted to talk to him. She knew everything about him so she must have known that it was his real name. The name he was born with. And he wanted it.

"I was thinkin'. I don't have anything that belongs to me except me first name. I'd like a last name that means something. At least to me. About who I am." Draco paused. "So I don't forget."

"It's obvious you've already decided on a name, Draco. Could you at least tell me what it is?"

Draco hung his head, but he spoke loudly enough. "Malfoy. It means bad faith in French."

"Malfoy?" Miss Carmichael said as though savoring the word. She slapped her desk lightly as she came to a decision. "Why not. I think the name Draco Malfoy has a nice ring to it."

Draco was surprised. "I can do it? Change my name?"

"All you have to do is tell me that Malfoy is your real name. Remember, you never gave one. On the other hand, if you do make that claim, you will have to be Malfoy from now on. Even if you decide you don't like it."

Draco spoke as sincerely as possible. "My real name is Draco Malfoy."

"Then, Mister Malfoy, I will tell you to fill in your name on the top of that form and then sign it."

As Draco handed the signed form back, Miss Carmichael smiled at him. "All I ask, Draco, is that you remember that bad faith was what you had, not what you have now nor what you give."

"I will try," Draco promised.

"There is one other thing I need to tell you, Draco. It concerns the holidays. The Hogwarts school permits students to stay over without any additional charges. Do you understand?"

"I won't be coming back?"

Miss Carmichael hesitated. "You might. You should know that, if things work out, the school may take legal custody of you. If that happens . . ."

Draco's first reaction was to cry. Not that he really would. Then he thought about it. It was a new life in a new place. And he couldn't tell anyone here about the magic, anyway. He decided to put on his happy face.

"That sounds terrible, Miss Carmichael. To have to live year round out in the country with all those trees and fresh air an' a lake to swim in." When he looked up, he was smiling, but there was sadness there. "I'll miss you."

Miss Carmichael also smiled. While she loved children, she could not do her job if she did not, she had to move them through the system. Her task was to find a place for every child and move them out of the facility. Regrettably, this was to make sure there was room for the next child.

* * *

Saturday. Draco was dressed in his jeans and Doc Martins, trying to decide on a pullover or a dress shirt. Just the leather vest didn't seem appropriate. He chose a pullover with the logo: Rage Against The Machine. He vaguely knew the group but he liked the idea it presented. He snapped his earring into place. Then he went downstairs to wait for the man from the government. The man was already there.

Or rather, SHE was.

The lady looked barely of legal age, but she held out her hand cheerfully enough. She nodded toward his ear, then turned her head to show she had a gold (mine's real) earring as well. "Wotcher. You must be Draco Malfoy. Call me Tonks."

" Wotcha, " Draco tried to smile. "Tonks?"

"It's my last name. I hate people calling me Miss Tonks. It sounds awful."

"An' you work for the government?"

"Fresh in. You're my first assignment, more or less. Shall we go?"

Draco was ushered out the door and stopped when he saw the limousine.

"Ye look disappointed?" Tonks laughed at him. "Can't fly everywhere," she whispered. "People might notice."

Draco climbed into the car before he could even think and Tonks told the driver to go. It was all real. MAGIC WAS REAL.

"Do you really work for the Department for Education?" Draco forced himself to ask.

"Them, no. I work directly for the Ministry of Magic." She laughed at the way Draco's lips curled. "That's right, we have our own Ministry. We don't tell everyone about it. Then they'd want us to solve all their problems."

"Oh, right," Draco said.

Tonks smiled at him. It was the same kind of smile that Mental Mikey used to have just before he did something. The difference was that Tonks' smile had none of the malice behind it.

"Draco, do you know about any of this?"

"Not much. A teacher stopped by to talk to me but . . . should I have said that?"

"I have no idea." She had the laughing smile again. "It's just that, considering who you are, I thought you would know more. It'll be a surprise then."

"Tonks. Did you know my parents?"

"Only stories. People don't like to talk about it much."

"The car accident. It was an accident, right?"

Draco saw the look Tonks gave him. It didn't tell him he was right or wrong. It told him she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Tonks, I was told that my parents died in a car accident. Is that true?" He could hear the desperation in his own voice.

"I don't know much about it," Tonks answered. "When you get to school, talk to Dumbledore."

"Okay." Draco tried to remain calm. Tonks had answered his question. The car accident was just another lie he had been told.


	5. The Boy Who Lived

A/N: I don't really have much to say here outside of the usual thank you for reading and reviewing. This is the chapter I think everyone has been waiting for. Draco finally interacts with the world of magic. I was half tempted to call this chapter, "Through the Looking Glass, and what Draco found there."

Also, if I have not responded to your review, I will in the near future. It's a habit I'm trying to pick up. After all, you took the time to review; the least I can do is acknowledge it.

**Chapter Five: The Boy-Who-Lived**

"We're here," Tonks said cheerfully as the car slowed and pulled over. She hopped out and held the door open for Draco. "C'mon, We'll be there in a minute."

Draco slid out of the car and looked at the blank wall Tonks was pointing to. "There's nothing there."

"You are absolutely right," Tonks said as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the wall which suddenly changed into a storefront with a sign saying The Leaky Cauldron. A moment later he was through the door.

Draco was staring at everything. "The picture . . ."

"It moved. I know." Tonks was laughing at him again. (I'd laugh with you, Draco, but you never get the joke.) "They all do."

"It's Tonks, if I've got me names straight," the barman called out. "Anything to drink, young lady?"

"No thanks, Tom. I'm working. Escorting one of the newbies."

Tom looked, and his smile faded. Almost like a slow wave, the entire place became quiet as everyone turned to watch Tom.

"Tha's him. Ain't it?"

"Him who?" Draco whispered to Tonks.

"That's DRACO Malfoy, all right," one of the customers said. "He's got Lucius Malfoy's face."

Tom looked directly at Tonks. "Just walk him through, then, young lady. There'll be no trouble."

"Thanks, Tom."

Draco felt her hand on his shoulder, pushing him through the parting crowd. It was almost like running a gauntlet, except they were using their faces instead of their fists. Several people mouthed words at him, words he didn't know but words he understood. He didn't see one friendly smile in the entire crowd. What scared him most is that every one of them knew his name; a name he'd not had for even a day.

"Sorry," Tonks said once she led him out the back door. "I should have realized someone would know you. They were half expecting you anyway."

"Tonks," Draco's fear was showing, "They hate me."

"They don't hate you."

"I saw their faces. That wasn't friendship."

"They don't hate you," Tonks said firmly. "It's more like they're afraid of you."

"People hate what they fear," Draco told her. "Why are they afraid?" He paused as he noticed her groping for words. "I guess it's time to change the subject."

Tonks gave him a grateful look. She pulled out her wand and tapped the wall in front of her. "Here comes Diagon Alley."

The wall began to wiggle. Then the bricks began to shift and gaps appeared. The gaps widened and merged, and Draco stood there looking out at an amazing collection of shops. And the shoppers. He could not help himself. He stared at everything. Strange gadgets were whirling above his head, but no one else was noticing. There was a pet shop, with owls, as well as bats and rats and snakes and cats. And a broom store! With the brand new racing brooms on display.

Cauldron shops, and magic book stores and ice cream. Draco did a double take at the Ice Cream Parlor.

"Tonks, do they . . ."

"They do, Vanilla, Chocolate, Strawberry and all the other flavors. We'll stop there later if you want. We have to go to the bank first."

"Why?"

"To get money. Just be careful when we go in. Don't touch anything. Goblins can be very picky."

"Goblins?"

Gringotts bank stood before him, Tall and white, with burnished bronze doors. In front of the doors, wearing his uniform of Scarlet and Gold, was a Goblin. Draco couldn't help but continue to stare as he walked past, but the Goblin ignored him. Then he was inside the bank and goblins were everywhere. Tonks led him to a high table where one looked down on them.

"Yes?"

Tonks passed over a small gold key. "We've come to make a withdrawal."

The goblin looked at the key, then at Draco. "Very well. Follow me." He climbed down and led them through a doorway. Tonks guided Draco with her hand on his shoulder because he was still staring at everything in sight.

"Well I'll be," a giant of a man (literally) said as they walked into a large waiting area. "Tonks, I've not seen ye since ye left the school."

Tonks ran up and hugged the big man. "Hagrid, I've missed you. Really." She stepped back. " What brings you here?"

"Official Hogwarts business," Hagrid said, patting one of the pockets of his coat. "An' what about you?"

"I made the grade. I'd like you to meet my first assignment."

The man, Hagrid, looked at Draco and frowned. "He looks familiar. Are ye really Lily Evan's son? Course ye are, You've got her eyes." He leaned down to whispered. "I'll be honest. I didn't like yer dad too much when he was at the school. He hung out with the wrong crowd. But he married a fine woman, so somehow he must 'ave been all right."

"Hagrid," Tonks said with annoyance.

"I'm bein' honest with 'im. He should know." He turned back to Draco. "And because of yer mum, you'll have to prove yer rotten to the core if ye don't want me as a friend."

Hagrid covered half of Draco's arm with his palm as he shook hands with the boy. "I'll see ye at Hogwarts."

Draco looked amazed. "He meant all of that."

Tonks dragged him along to where the annoyed goblin was waiting. "Hagrid is a very simple man. He always tells the truth. That way he doesn't have to remember what he said. Get in."

Draco sat down on a metal seat attached to a frame with four metal wheels. Tonks and the Goblin were with him. He grabbed the bar in front of him as the car, or whatever it was called, began to move forward. Within seconds the car was plummeting down a steep incline, curving sharply without warning. Two minutes later, it stopped outside of a large vault. Draco gaped as he tried to catch his breath. The door alone was imposing.

"Is this where you keep your money?"

"Nope," Tonks laughed. "This is where you keep your money."

"I have money?"

"Look."

The door of the vault opened and Draco looked in to see the piles and piles of money inside. Instead he saw three stacks of gold coins. At least they're gold, Draco thought.

"How much is that?" Draco asked as Tonks scooped up the money and put it in her pocket.

"Thirty Galleons," Tonks told him, "every knut you own?"

Tonks laughed at Draco's frown and explained wizarding currency to him. 17 Sickles to a Galleon. 19 Knuts to a Sickle. She explained more on the ride back to the bank lobby but that was all Draco caught. He knew one thing. He had money, but not for long.

"Let's get the robes first," Tonks told him. "After that, we'll figure out how to spread out the rest of the money. Do you want good robes or cheap secondhand robes that look terrible?"

"You think I should get new robes?"

"They cost more, but they last, and if you get good enough quality, they'll last all through school. You won't have a lot of extra money, but since you'll be at school, you won't need it."

Draco nodded. Personally, he would rather have the money. On the other hand, he never owned anything new. "Lead on, MacDuff."

"It's Tonks," came the laughing reply. "Honestly, Draco, if you're that bad on names . . . First stop, Madam Malkin's. You go in. I'll see to your supplies."

Draco nodded and walked inside.

A squat woman with a smiling face greeted him. "Hogwarts, dear? We can take care of you. If you'll follow me."

Draco followed Madam Malkin into the fitting room and was told to stand on one of the stools. One of the others was already occupied. Draco looked over at the thin-faced boy with disheveled black hair. The boy glanced over as Madam Malkin put the robes on Draco and began measuring and fitting.

"Are you going to Hogwarts, too?" the boy asked. He looked at Draco with brown eyes behind round wire-rimmed glasses.

"Yeah," Draco said carefully.

"Do you play Quidditch? Dad says I'm a natural flyer." He paused. "Do you play?"

"No."

"A pity. I'm mad about the sport myself. Dad was on the team at school. That's what I'm hoping for. I guess your dad isn't into sports?"

Draco frowned. "I wouldn't know. He died when I was a baby."

"I am sorry," the black-haired boy said, half-honestly. The boy turned and smiled, "I'm being rude. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"I'm Draco Malfoy."

The smile disappeared. "I heard you were coming. Good luck in Slytherin. I'll be in Gryffindor so we won't be seeing much of each other." He looked down at the woman who was measuring him and whispered something. She nodded and helped him out of his robes.

"See you at Hogwarts," Potter said without feeling.

Draco looked behind him to see a man, an adult version of the boy, greet his son. The son said something, and the father looked up directly at Draco. The man frowned darkly, and father and son walked out.

"I made another friend today," Draco said with a cheerfulness he didn't feel.

After he was finished at Madam Malkins, Tonks took Draco to the Ice Cream Parlor. (Better than a real lunch, eh.) As he ate his sundae, vanilla ice cream with hot fudge, He asked his question.

"What's Slytherin?"

"It's one of the houses at Hogwarts."

"And Gryffindor would be another house?"

"The others are Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw." Tonks eyed Draco carefully. "Who have you been talking to?"

"In the robe shop, I met this other boy. Harry Potter. He was nice until I told him who I was. I know his dad wasn't happy to see me either. Tonks, do you know him?"

"I know his father, James Potter. He's one of the senior Aurors in my department."

"Tonks, why do they hate me?"

"They don't hate you."

"They're doing a great job of pretending."

"I only know the stories."

"And I don't." Draco glared at Tonks. "I'm tired of fake smiles and honest frowns. Everyone knows more about me than I do."

"I'm not the one to tell you."

Draco looked at his ice cream, not even half finished, and threw it away. "We should finish my shopping. That way you can get rid of me. And you don't have to smile any more."

"Draco," Tonks said in an uncomfortable voice, "I was ordered not to tell you anything. I wasn't even supposed to tell you about the houses, not really. But they didn't order me to be nice to you. That came from the inside. I decided." Her words had no effect. "Let's go this way. It's a long walk to the wand shop."

It did not seem that long before Draco stood before Ollivander's Wand Shop. It looked old and worn. He could easily believe the notation on the sign that said it was established in 347 BC. Tonks smiled as she opened the door for him, but Draco frowned to show his mood had not improved. "I'll wait out here for you," she added helpfully.

A small bell sounded as Draco entered the wand shop. He looked around the small waiting area, the one chair, the low counter and the piles of small boxes.

"I was wondering when you would show up."

Draco turned around to see a wiry old man with gray hair and steely grey eyes. He looked as old and worn as the shop.

"Mister Ollivander?"

"At your service, Mister Malfoy." He smiled. "It seems like only yesterday that your parents were here. I remember your mother very well. Her wand was willow, ten and a quarter inches, excellent for charms. And your father's wand was ebony, twelve inches, a powerful wand in the right hands. But it is the wand that chooses the wizard. And now, let us see what wand chooses you. Which is your wand hand?"

"Um, I'm right handed," Draco said nervously.

"And there it is," Ollivander said, pointing at Draco's forehead. "I regret to say, Mister Malfoy, that I sold the wand which gave you that scar. Yew, thirteen inches and a half." He gave Draco a frightening smile. "Hold out your arms."

Draco held out his arms while Ollivander took measurements with the tape. Arm length. Distance from wrist to elbow. Distance from elbow to shoulder. Then he went to the pile of boxes to choose a wand. To Draco's surprise the tape keep measuring. When Ollivander returned, he brushed the tape aside and handed Draco a wand.

"Go ahead. Wave it."

Draco waved the wand.

"Just put it on the chair. Here. Try this one. No, that didn't work. Put it on the chair."

Ollivander paused as Draco nervously rubbed his scar. He stopped as the grey eyes looked directly at him. It was unnerving.

"I wonder," Ollivander mused. He went directly to a particular box and returned. "Try this one. Holly. Eleven inches. With a phoenix feather at its core. It's a supple wand."

Draco waved the wand and suddenly a stream of Gold and Silver Stars came out of the tip. "That was great!"

"Curious."

Draco turned. "Excuse me, Sir. What do you mean, 'curious'?"

"Young man, I remember every wand I have ever sold. And the phoenix whose feather resides in your wand gave only one other. Its brother lies in the wand that gave you your mark. Had I know what that wand would do, I would never have let it leave this shop" Ollivander eyed Draco carefully. "I must admit I am afraid of letting this wand go."

Draco looked at the wand, then at Ollivander. A feeling of dread went through him. He had half a mind to throw the wand away and to forget about magic completely. Instead, he politely smiled, paid the seven galleons for his wand and left the shop.

Tonks was waiting for him. She gave him a polite smile and asked if his business was finished. Draco nodded, but couldn't bring himself to tell her about the wand.

"We'll just get your books," Tonks said in an obvious effort to be cheerful. "Then you'll be ready for school." When Draco sniffed, she stopped to look at him. "What happened?"

"Mister Ollivander said he knew my parents."

Tonks suddenly became nervous. "Did he say anything else?"

Draco tried to sound angry, but he was suddenly afraid. "He said he sold the wand that gave me my scar." The anger fled but the fear stayed. "Tonks. What happened?"

"Let's start walking."

Draco heard nervousness in her voice.

Tonks put a hand on his shoulder, and began guiding him away from the crowds. When she started talking, the reason became obvious. She didn't want to be overheard. She spoke in a low voice.

"You have to understand, Draco. I was telling you the truth. I'm not supposed to tell you anything. I'm guessing my boss thought it would be better. You know. No baggage."

"Everyone else knows."

Tonks didn't say anything for a minute but continued to guide Draco from behind. Then Draco heard her low voice.

"Times were dark back then. No one knew who to trust. There was a dark wizard we do not name," her voice dropped to the barest whisper, "Voldemort." She went back to her low voice.

"They say that Lucius and Lily Malfoy were his strongest supporters. People used to cringe whenever they heard either name. If Lucius Malfoy was your enemy and you met him, you were dead. Lily Malfoy rarely showed herself but, when she did, open violence was sure to follow."

Draco stared in disbelief at the ground in front of him. The hand that Tonks had on his shoulder kept him from running into things such as walls and trees and other people. "My parents? Evil?"

"It gets worse," Tonks warned him. "They say that the Malfoys decided they were the stronger and challenged You-Know-Who for leadership. The dark wizard confronted Lucius Malfoy and killed him. Then he killed Lily Malfoy as she tried to escape him. Then he turned his wand against you."

"What happened?" They had stopped and Draco did not even realize it.

"That's easy," Tonks said wearing an ironic smile. "We don't know. He disappeared after he used the killing curse on you."

"The what?"

"The killing curse. The most powerful curse there is. There's absolutely no defense against it. But he cast it at you and disappeared as a result. And all you got was that scar. That's why they're afraid of you, Draco. You're the Boy-Who-Lived."


	6. Leaving London

A/N: Enough people have asked about Harry's mother that I decided to answer that question here as it does not have any major impact on the story line (other than that it was not Lily Evans). These are my notes, sparse as they are.

Her name is Claire. She was in Hufflepuff. She is probably a pureblood, but she is definitely wizard-born. Claire always liked James, although it was only a friendship. After James realized he had no chance with Lily Evans, he and Claire became more serious and married soon after they graduated. James has never regretted his choice for marrying Claire but he still harbours a strong resentment against Lucius Malfoy. Harry has his mother's eyes.

**Chapter Six: Leaving London**

"Can I come in? "

Draco looked up from his bed to see Janice standing in the doorway. She laughed as Draco bounded out of bed and hugged her.

"It's great to see you, Janice. I've had no one to talk to since you left."

"I had to come by. I heard you were leaving. Going to a new school. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

After Draco let go of her, she entered Draco's bedroom and sat on one end of the bed, trying to avoid sitting on the book he had been reading. "Treasure Island? Is it a good book?"

"I never took the time to read before," Draco answered as he sat next to her. "Not like this. It's better than television. No adverts. My school doesn't have any television. I asked."

"Well, here's another one you might like." She handed him a package.

"What's it about?" Draco asked as he pulled off the wrapping and saw a blank cover.

"Don't know. It's one of those books you write yourself."

"Like a diary?" Draco's look let her know he would think about it.

"They won't like you, you know."

Draco looked at Janice in surprise. "How do you know that?"

"Because you're a 'special case'. The rest of them earned their way by having rich folks. But you didn't. I know. I went to one of those schools."

"You did?"

"I lasted a month." Janice shrugged her shoulders. "I wish I had stayed, now. Even though they hated me, I would have been better off. But I was only twelve. And now I'm sixteen and looking at the world. Draco, don't let them beat you down." Janice smiled at an inner thought. "Shove their attitudes back at them. Beat them at their own game."

"I met someone from the school. He didn't like me already."

"Then you've made a good start. And Draco, you will find friends there. Don't expect them to be anyone who's popular."

Draco sighed. Janice was right, but for the wrong reasons. The last thing that anyone would care about was whether he had money.

"Janice, what's it like?"

"What's what like?"

"Having a friend?"

Janice started to smirk, then gave Draco a thoughtful look. "It's nice. It takes getting used to. Most of my friends come from shared experiences."

Draco laughed. "How many people have shared my life?"

"We all have." Janice put her hand on Draco's arm. "I can read you like a book, Draco Malfoy. I know exactly what your life was like." She raised her hand and brushed the scar on his forehead. "Do you know this scar? That's what makes you different from the rest of us. Your scar is on the outside for the entire world to see."

"My parents died the day I got that scar." The bitterness was clear.

"My parents left me in a dangerous place, and never came back." Janice's tone matched Draco's. "It took me a long time to understand that it didn't matter what happened." She looked at the scar and her voice softened. "You reach a point, Draco, when you talk about it to someone else who understands, that the particulars get in the way. IT happened. IT happened to you, and IT happened to me. You can talk about how bad IT was, but that doesn't matter. IT is always bad."

"And how do I live with IT?"

"Anyway you can, just like the rest of us. The other people, like Miss Carmichael, they mean well, but they don't understand." Janice smiled. "Do you know what an epiphany is?"

"No?"

"It's a moment when everything becomes clear, when a great truth is revealed."

Draco smirked. "And you had one of these 'epiphanies'?"

"Yes, I did." Janice gave Draco her own smirk. "If you like, I'll tell you what it is. And I promise you won't understand."

"Try me," Draco dared.

"The fact that Miss Carmichael doesn't understand is a good thing. And the best thing would be if no one understood."

"I don't understand. Does that mean I'm good?"

Janice laughed. "Draco, you will end up being the worst of us all." She smiled when he frowned. "You'll understand in time, Draco Mal Foy. It will happen in the blink of an eye."

Janice gave him a smile. "Someone else is waiting outside. I think he wants to say goodbye, too."

As she led him down the hallway and to the front entrance, she put her arm on his shoulders. "Well, how long will you be gone?"

"I won't be coming back until the summer. It's cheaper that way."

"And you're sad? You get to be away from here for ten months. I'd be jumping up and down."

"I'll miss you."

Janice gave him a hug. "We can always write. And I will, Draco. If anything ever happens around here."

"Mick keeps asking me. Do you fancy him?"

Janice paused. "Mick? He asked you that? What did you say?"

"It was just after you left. I said probably." This time Draco paused. "He said he likes doing things with you, and you're old enough for him to think of doing other things. What was he talking about?"

"You don't know?" Janice smiled. "Well, you are only ten."

"Eleven."

"You had a birthday?"

"Sure. The school said I had to be eleven."

Janice laughed as she opened the front door. "And you changed your age just like that? That's what happens when you don't have a birthday."

"I do have a birthday," Draco admitted. "It's just that no one knows when it is."

Mick was leaning against the lamppost as Janice walked up to him.

"Why's Dragon so sad?"

"Miss Carmichael told him. When he leaves for school, he won't be back until the year's over."

Mick laughed. "And what will you miss here, Dragon?"

"Me," Janice answered. "You, too, I guess."

"Me? Really?"

Draco nodded as he hung his head. They didn't have to sound so happy about it. Mick tapped his shoulder.

"Dragon. Look around. You live in the cleanest place in the neighborhood. What's to miss? I wouldn't." Mick paused when he heard Draco sniff. "Nothing to cry about either. I'd be so busy writing my friends about my new school to ever miss 'em."

Draco felt Mick's hand on his chin. Mick forced his head up.

"I would make it a point to answer every letter I got. Promise to write? And tell me everything?"

Draco nodded again and wiped his nose with his hand. "I promise."

Janice let out a laugh of surprise. "Mick? That was touching. When did you become nice?"

Mick looked embarrassed, then laughed himself. "Dragon and me. We know each other. Nice has nothing to do with it."

Draco wiped the last of his tears and looked at Mick. The man had just told him something. That he knew what Miss Carmichael had said. About Saint Brutus.

* * *

The first day of September was warm and sunny. Draco, wearing a dress shirt for once, felt anxious as he packed what few clothes he had into the old backpack. He felt small as he thought of this being all that he owned. He gave Miss Carmichael a hug, and Janice as well. He shook hands with Mick. His goodbyes done, he walked to the waiting car for the ride to Kings Cross Station.

There was no conversation in the car. Any chance of one ended when Draco was told gruffly to put on his seat belt. As they turned the corner, Draco looked back at his home for the past four years. Mick was right. It was the cleanest building. Even then, it was worn and rundown. I must be a fool, Draco thought to himself. I'm going to miss Grimauld Place.

When they arrived at Kings Cross Station, the driver pulled Draco's trunk out of the boot. He gave Draco an envelope, climbed back into the car and drove away. Draco opened the envelope. Inside was a train ticket, but he was surprised at the platform number. Even though he had never taken a train anywhere, he doubted that nine and three quarters was a real number. "It's just to show they're different," Draco said to himself. "And I'll bet there's a trick to it."

He picked up his trunk and carried it inside the station and to the area between Platforms Nine and Ten. It was Ten-Thirty. He had a half hour to figure this out. He watched as people walked down the platform, especially those with children. A couple and an older woman escorted a boy his age and he followed cautiously. They were some distance ahead of him. The boy said his goodbyes until the older woman waved him away. Draco saw the boy walk past the column that divided the two platforms. He walked to the other side of the column he was standing by and looked. The boy was not there. He walked back to his cart and saw the three adults coming back by themselves.

"Excuse me," Draco said as politely as he could. "I'm looking for the," he glanced at his ticket, "Hogwarts Express. I saw . . ."

The man frowned at him. "Your name is Malfoy."

"Yes, Sir. I'll ask somebody else. Sorry to bother you, Sir."

"Your sarcasm is developed for someone your age," the older woman commented as Draco push his cart away from them. "You're going the wrong way."

Draco turned and gave her a grateful smile while trying to ignore the surprised looks from the other two. He followed her down the platform until she stopped.

"You may think I'm lying, young man, but that is your choice. You simply walk into that column and it will take you to Platform 9 3/4."

"Thank you for helping me, Ma'am."

"Mrs. Longbottom, if you please. I can't stand being called, 'Ma'am'. It makes me feel as if I'm in a restaurant taking someone's order."

"Thank You, Mrs. Longbottom."

Mrs. Longbottom gave him a funny look, as though she was about to cry but she couldn't find a reason. "You have your father's face. And for all that we thought of him, he was a handsome man."

"Um, thank you," Draco said politely, and watched as the old woman walked away. He braced himself, and began walking toward the column. At the last minute he closed his eyes and stumbled. Opening his eyes quickly, he saw a different platform in front of him, and an old-fashioned sign telling him he was in the right place.

A glance upward brought the Hogwarts Express into sight. The red engine was almost too bright to look at, and the polished wheels and bronzed trimming made the entire train look festive and cheerful. Draco risked a happy smile and pushed his cart forward. He received some uncertain stares from some of the parents, but quickly found an empty compartment and forced his trunk inside.

"Here, need a hand," someone called. Draco looked up and two redheads, twins, were standing there.

"I can manage, thank you," Draco said politely.

"Right," one of the twins said mockingly. He was pushed aside and the twins, one on each side, lifted his trunk and slid it into the compartment and helped him stow it. "It's awful light. I guess you didn't need our help."

"It's only my school things," Draco admitted. "But thank you, anyway."

"Fred," one twin said. "Look, next to the earring."

"The scar." Fred looked at Draco in surprise. "THE scar."

Draco sighed. "If you want to pull my trunk out again, I'll understand."

Fred laughed although his heart didn't seem in it. "Not now. We'll wait until the train leaves the station. It's more fun that way. Right, George?"

"Right, and Mom's calling."

Draco looked at the parting twins in disgust. To use such a lame excuse as their mother was calling. He started to climb into his compartment when he looked over at the twins. They were joining a group of redheads, obviously their family. A woman, who was clearly their mother, was yelling at them. Draco smiled as he realized they were telling the truth.

It was only a short amount of time before the compartments began to fill up. The older students were mostly in groups and didn't seem to notice him, but the word was spreading. He could hear the whispers.

"Did you see him?"

"He's here?"

"Yes, he's on the train."

"Geroff, Mum."

The last was from the platform almost outside his compartment. A tall red-haired boy to his mother. Apparently the family had moved down the platform and the mother was trying to wipe something off the boy's nose. As Draco leaned over to see, another redhead, this one a girl, looked up at him through the doorway.

"Hi, are you a first year, like Ron?"

"I'm a bit shorter than he is."

The girl laughed at Draco's remark and her father looked up.

"Ginny, go over there with your mother."

"But Dad . . . "

"Ginny. Now."

The girl gave Draco a wry smile and walked back to her mother. Her father was still watching Draco.

"You should close the compartment door to show it's taken."

"I'm waiting for friends," Draco said in what he hoped was a haughty voice.

"You are an arrogant little snot."

Draco surprised both himself and the man by laughing. The man walked up and closed Draco's compartment and walked away.

"Dear?" the woman asked. The voices were now muffled.

"It's him. And he's just as bad as his father was."

"Is it really?" the mother asked.

"That's really him, Mum," one of the twins said.

"Yeah," the other twin added. "We helped him put his trunk up."

"That's when we recognized him."

"And he's spying on us."

The woman looked at Draco then turned away. "He's just looking out the window, Fred. Now get on the train, you lot, all of you. Not you Ginny."

A minute later, the family was gone. Draco sat back in his seat and sighed.

The train began moving and things became interesting for a while. The scenery was slowly changing from city to countryside as the Hogwarts Express made its way north.

"Sorry, wrong compartment," a tall, husky boy said as he opened the interior door to the compartment.

"I told you it was the next car," a boy behind him said.

"Wait, Greg, I know him. You're Draco Malfoy. We were told you were coming to Hogwarts. I'm Crabbe, and this is Goyle."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Draco said automatically. Something in the back of his mind told him to be careful of these two.

"I'm sure it is," Goyle said. "We're going to be in Slytherin. Which house are you going to be in?"

"I was told," Draco said in what he hoped was a friendly manner, "that Slytherin would be a good house for me."

"That's great," Crabbe said. He smiled at his friend and then both walked into the compartment. "We can show you what to expect."

Before Draco could react, Crabbe hit him in the face. While he was dazed, one of them grabbed his arm and twisted it, forcing him off the seat. Then he was punched hard in the chest. He was struck a few more times until he fell to the floor of the compartment. Then they started kicking him in the head and chest. Draco vaguely heard a third voice say that someone was coming. He received one final kick to the stomach, followed by the sound of the compartment door closing, sliding back open, then closing again.

The first breaths were the hardest, but he managed them. As his breathing eased he began to feel the throbbing from where he had been hit. He was still lying on the floor when the compartment door opened again.

"Is this . . ."

Someone's hand was suddenly on Draco's shoulder.

"Are you . . ." A hesitant voice asked, young, male. "Can you hear me?"

Draco tried to answer but it came out as a groan.

A hand touched the side of his face. Draco couldn't help but notice that his face was wet. He must have been crying.

"Merlin's beard," the boy said with sudden fear. Draco could hear him getting up and running outside. "HELP. I NEED HELP."

"What is it?" a girl said from nearby. He heard her scream from the doorway. The sounds became numerous and incoherent. He felt strong hands grab him and turn him over. Someone was whispering to him and a flask was raised to his lips. Draco drank the bittersweet liquid greedily, then sighed as the pain finally began to recede. The last thing he remembered was someone picking him up.


	7. School

**Chapter Seven: School**

He shook suddenly as he felt the change. Draco opened his eyes with difficulty. His left eye was covered, but his right eye could see clearly. He knew he was in a bed. He could feel it beneath him, and the blanket covering him. Now he could see other beds in the dim light. He was in a hospital. An empty hospital

"Ah, you are awake," a voice said softly from his left side.

Draco turned his head to see a matronly woman.

"I hope you had a nice nap, Draco. I am Madam Pomfrey, the school healer. In case you want to know where you are, this is the infirmary."

"Infirmary? I'm at Hogwarts?"

"Albus arranged for you to be brought here immediately. He was informed about you as soon as you were discovered."

Draco frowned. "Who's Albus?"

"That would be Professor Dumbledore. He's the headmaster."

Draco nodded, then asked a question of importance to him. "My eye?"

Madam Pomfrey paused before she answered. "It was the only injury I couldn't heal immediately. It will take several weeks for your eye to grow back." She smiled at Draco's surprise. "Yes. We can do that."

"How badly was I hurt?" Fear was in Draco's voice.

"Three broken bones. Numerous bruises and contusions. The two boys who beat you were quite thorough."

"You know what happened." It was a statement, not a question.

"And I know who was involved. Those students will have very little free time as a result."

"And the other students? I was warned I wouldn't be very popular."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I will be honest with you. Yours is a difficult position. So much so that everyone has been forbidden to discuss the matter with you. Although you seem to know the basics. Whom did you talk to?"

Draco remembered. I'm not supposed to tell. "No one."

Pomfrey huffed. "I won't press you on this, because then I'd have to call you a liar."

"I was told I wasn't supposed to know."

"When someone asks, and they will, tell them you heard the stories being told behind your back. And why are you smiling?"

"The person who told me was standing behind me at the time."

"Good. A partial truth is the best lie. When you need to lie. Can you get up?"

"I'll try. I feel squiffy."

Draco sat up and his head seemed to clear. He looked up, and began to feel lightheaded again. He lowered his head. It cleared again.

"I have trouble looking up."

"That should pass. Make it a point to look down or straight ahead. If you still have the problem in a couple of days, I'll examine your eye again. Do you want to bathe or shower before you change?"

"Change?"

"You need to wear your robes when you go to the welcoming feast."

"It's still today?"

Madame Pomfrey smiled. "It's been about four hours since you were hurt, Mister Malfoy. You haven't missed anything yet."

Draco stood up and Madam Pomfrey led him to a room where he could shower. He was clean enough but he felt the need to wash away the memories of what had happened. He walked in and stopped. There was no light.

"Will you have any problems with the dark?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "You need to take off your patch. After you're done and you put it back on, I'll give you some light." When Draco nodded, she closed the door and left him on his own.

Draco relished the hot water but found his left eye stinging the instant it became wet. He put his hand to the eye, and pulled it back as suddenly. He did not feel an eyeball. His eye felt flat. Madam Pomfrey told him it would grow back, but feeling nothing there gave him quite a shock.

It was a nervous Draco who swiftly dried himself. He put his patch on and called to Madam Pomfrey. She walked in and examined the patch to make sure that it was on properly. Adjusting it slightly, she waved her wand and the lights came on. She didn't seem to notice Draco's embarrassment at being caught starkers. Instead she turned to leave. She stopped and looked back to tell him to be ready when she returned. Pomfrey then left him alone again after informing him that he would find his trunk by his bed.

When Draco went to his trunk, the first thing he noticed about having one eye, outside of not being able to see anything on his left, was that he couldn't grab things properly. (Madam Pomfrey would explain that he would have to adjust to his lack of binocular vision. She would then simplify it to 'seeing with one eye instead of two'.) When he reached for the latch on his trunk, his hand seemed to move to one side. He had to reach slower than normal to properly get hold of the clasp. He opened his trunk and saw was his earring. It was sitting on top of the clothes he had worn on the train. The clothes were clean.

With the earring in place, Draco reached for his clothes. He put his robes on and put his wand in the pocket. Finished, he closed the trunk and waited. When he spotted a full length mirror, he walked over to it. For the first time, Draco saw himself as something other than a kid off the streets. The robes, not yet buttoned in front, sat on him like a cloak. I look like one of those fancy preps, he thought. His earring didn't even look out of place. And his scar shown prominently. Too prominently. He ran his hand across the lightning bolt. If I let my hair grow, it will cover the scar.

Draco stared at himself as he began to think. The scowls he received. The comments made behind his back. Do I really want to go to this school? What else will happen? I could go back to Miss Carmichael. I would have my own room and no one would bother me. Draco sighed. The room would become a cage. He remembered cages. He would stay at the damn school.

"You look quite the dashing figure," Madam Pomfrey said as she came back in.

Draco smiled a slight blush. "Could I get a pirate's hat to go with the patch? "

"We're out of hats, but we could try to find a parrot for you. If you're ready, it's time we went down to the Great Hall."

Taking a deep breath, Draco nodded and followed her out of the infirmary.

"Draco, please let me know if you begin to feel tired. I want to make sure that you are strong enough after your ordeal. You still have a long day ahead of you."

"What do I have to do?" he asked as he followed her.

"You still need to be sorted, and then there is the welcoming feast."

"What's so hard about that? Sorting don't sound so hard. And I never had any trouble eating."

Madam Pomfrey laughed lightly. "You make it sound so easy. Most new students are terrified of the sorting. Especially students from wizarding families. A lot of them worry about which house they'll be put into. Will their mum and dad approve."

Draco tried to sound casual but a bit of sadness was in his voice. "I don't have a family to worry me."

Madam Pomfrey smiled in understanding. When Draco saw that smile, he thought that if she were black, she could have been Miss Carmichael's sister. He smiled back.

"What was that?" Draco asked suddenly as he pointed down a hallway as they passed. "I thought I saw someone."

Madam Pomfrey looked down the hallway but it was empty. She called out loudly, "Is anyone there?"

Draco froze as the figure of a woman floated through the wall and came toward them. His eyes decided to bulge when he realized he could see right through her.

"Madam Pomfrey?" the woman asked in an ethereal voice.

"I'm sorry to bother you, My Lady. Draco thought he saw someone?"

The woman floated toward him. "Expect to see more of me, young man, if you become Ravenclaw."

"Are y-you a ghost?"

The woman smiled and nodded her head. "Good fortune to you, lad." She then proved she was a ghost by fading from sight.

"She was real?" Draco asked as fear was replaced with awe.

"That was the Grey Lady," Madam Pomfrey explained. "She's the house ghost for Ravenclaw."

"House Ghost? Then there are other ghosts here."

Madam Pomfrey nodded as they began walking again. "There are quite a few. We even have a poltergeist. If you're lucky, you won't run into him very often. He's quite the prankster to put it mildly."

"May I ask, Madam Pomfrey," Draco said as they continued their way through the school.

"You're being very polite."

"So are you."

Madam Pomfrey looked down at him with interest. "Courtesy is a requirement of my position, but I always try to be polite, anyway." She paused. "You're asking why I'm being polite to you?"

"Yeah. I'm Draco Malfoy. My parents were monsters. I'm the demon spawn."

"You were brought up as a muggle?"

"Muggle?"

"That would be a yes. You were raised by people who could not perform magic, nor knew that there were people who could."

"Raised?" There was a slight curl to Draco's lip.

Madam Pomfrey laughed. "I forgot. Demon Spawn grow wild in the concrete jungles that are muggle cities. I've learned enough about muggles, Mister Malfoy, to know that you watch too many movies."

"I've read books, too."

"Really? What were some of the titles?"

"Treasure Island. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I've even read Ivanhoe."

"For school?"

"No. For myself. I don't count the stuff I read for school."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "What was Ivanhoe about?"

Draco smiled. "He's a crusader. He returns from the wars to fight King John, who stole the throne from his brother, Richard Lion-Heart."

"It sounds like an exciting story."

"I didn't think I'd like it, and I didn't understand everything, but it was fun. It was the hardest thing I've tried to read. I would have loved being there. Being a knight and all."

Madam Pomfrey noticed Draco's wistful look. She put a kindly hand on his shoulder. "I have a small collection of books. Let me see if I have anything that will give you an idea of what life will be like for you now that you're a wizard. Muggles don't have all the fun, you know."

Draco looked up with honest appreciation. "I'd love that. Thanks, really." He paused. "Why don't you hate me?"

"Why should I hate YOU?"

Draco walked a while in thought. "Do you know a man named Hagrid?"

"He's a giant, dear. Well, a half-giant. And he's the groundskeeper." Madam Pomfrey gave him a curious smile. "And how do you know him?"

"I met him at the goblin bank, when I was taken to get my supplies. He said I'd have to prove I was bad in order to get him to hate me."

Again Madam Pomfrey gave her light laugh. For some reason, it comforted Draco."Hagrid must be a very perceptive underneath all his gruff. That was an insightful comment." She stopped and made Draco look at her. "Now you understand why I don't hate you. You haven't done a thing to earn my wrath."

They walked down one last staircase which left them facing a pair of large wooden doors. Some students were still in the hallway but most had already entered a large room to the left, the Great Hall. Looking back to the doors, Draco saw a woman he recognized.

"Good Evening, Professor McGonagall."

The woman turned. "It seems I interviewed the right boy after all."

"The right boy?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

McGonagall looked at Draco as though she were asking permission. "It seems that no one told this young man what his last name was, until I addressed him as Draco Malfoy. And it appears he was smart enough to figure out that it WAS his name. He was using the name Atkins."

Draco smiled scornfully. "I'd 'av figured it out quick enough. I was told by a lot of people that I look like my father."

"Hopefully, attitudes will change as the other students get to know you," McGonagall said as she led him to a small room next to the Great Hall. "It's about time we put all those rumours to rest." She waved her wand and a high-back chair appeared, a comfortable looking chair. "I was told that you weren't to tire yourself. Please remain seated until I call everyone in. The rest of the first years will be here shortly."

"All of them?" Draco's voice quavered.

McGonagall smiled. "Almost all. Two of them will have a special interview first. They will arrive late."

Draco sat down and waited. He could hear muffled noises from the Hall but nothing distinct. A banging noise was heard and then the sounds of footsteps from the entranceway. The other new students were coming. He now had to face the moment of truth. When he would be committed to becoming a student. For a brief moment, he wished he had never come. He watched as McGonagall lead them to the small room. She paused after the last one entered then cleared her throat to get everyone's attention.

"I will be back shortly to escort you into the Great Hall where you will be sorted into your respective houses. There are four of them. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Please wait here until I call for you."

Draco tried to act casual as he scanned the crowd of first years. The first thing he noticed was that everyone was staring at him.

"How interesting," one black boy, tall and lean, said in a light tone. "Draco Malfoy has come to Hogwarts." He walked up to Draco. "I believe I speak for the majority of students here when I say that what happened to you on the train was undeserved and unwarranted."

Draco smiled, making it a point to do no more than give a quick glance upward. "I notice you didn't say Unappreciated."

The boy bristled. "Some of us believe in waiting instead of judging someone before we know them. In hopes that the rumours are completely false, may I be the first to welcome you as a fellow classmate." The boy held out his hand. "I'm Blaise Zabini."

Draco smirked. Madam Pomfrey was right. He did watch too many movies. This boy even sounded like he was lying.

"Hold your friends close, and your enemies closer."

"I don't understand." Zabini said. Both he and Draco turned when a girl snorted. A girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth. "What's so funny?"

The girl controlled her effort to giggle. "It's from a movie. The Godfather." She looked at Draco curiously. "But you're wizard-born. How would you know about muggle things?"

Draco never had to answer. Another girl suddenly screamed. Others, mostly the muggle-born, cowered as ghosts suddenly passed through one wall. Draco looked curiously with his one eye and spotted the Grey Lady. He bowed his head without getting up and she paused to give him a curtsy before continuing. Draco noted that several students were still watching him and saw the exchange. Zabini was one of them. As was Potter.

Shortly after the ghosts passed though the opposite wall, Professor McGonagall returned. She had the students line up according to their names, then led them into the Great Hall. Draco stood up and took his place in line.

As they entered the Great Hall, he could hear everyone around him making noises and comments. He knew there was something wonderful about the ceiling, but it made him too dizzy when he tried to look straight up. He sighed. He would have plenty of time, later. After his eye healed. He settled for looking around at the older students who were already seated at their tables. It was no surprise that many were looking at him. He decided that letting his hair grow would definitely be a good idea.

The hall grew quiet as the first years lined up before a stool on which a ragged old hat was perched. Draco knew it must be the sorting hat. The stocky boy in front of him turned around, giving a nervous smile. "My father told me about the hat. Did you know it can read all your thoughts?"

"I was told," Draco said sullenly.

The boy's smile wilted slightly and he turned back to face the hat. Draco couldn't help but smile himself. The boy turned around not to talk to him but to talk to The Draco Malfoy. It was only the first time. He mused on how he would handle the others.

Draco looked as a teacher walked up with the boys, Crabbe and Goyle, and placed them in line. He heard McGonagall thank him, calling him Professor Snape. True to form, the man glanced over at Draco before walking away.

Now that everyone was there, the hat did the one thing Draco didn't expect. It began to sing.

_Some say that I am shabby_

_Or that I'm wrinkled with age_

_Right off I will tell you_

_They should use a better gauge._

_I am not very pretty,_

_Not that I'm meant to be._

_Give me a try, I'll look inside_

_Here is what I'll see._

_All that sits within your mind_

_Though your thoughts are a twisted vine._

_Putting you in the proper house,_

_Understand, that task is mine._

_There are those with Ambition,_

_Slytherin is the place for you._

_Dare to do whatever it takes_

_Reaching always for your due._

_And Ravenclaw is also there_

_Collecting the wise ones, for_

_Over the years your mates will give_

_Insights into life's rich lore._

_Not to be discouraged by this,_

_The Gryffindors will never stall_

_Or waiver when their duty calls._

_Gryffindor's for brave ones all._

_Ready always to do the job_

_Yet never inclined to simply bask,_

_For those in Hufflepuff will _

_Find hard work an easy task_

_Into one of these houses_

_Now I will send each of you_

_Do not fear, I'm never wrong_

_Oh, I'm the Sorting Hat, that's true_

_Ready to sort every one of you._

* * *

A/N: I have revealed a great secret in this chapter. I am a terrible poet.

My thanks to everyone who has been following this story. And I have tried to respond to all the reviews but I know I have been remiss on one or two. I have a long weekend coming up and I will try to correct this.

It should be obvious that the next chapter will have the sorting. However, for those who like to be certain that their guess is correct, I have specifically stated in this chapter what is to become of young master Malfoy. I would like to say that I've been very clever about it. The truth is that sometimes I have too much time on my hands.


	8. Sorting

A/N: a three day weekend, thanks to the holiday, has done wonders for me. It began on a mixed note, however. At my regular session with my psychiatrist, he asked me what the results were in my efforts to get in touch with my inner child. I told him that if you freeze a slice of baloney it will fit perfectly into the DVD player. For the new year, he wants me to find a new psychiatrist. Go figure.

**Chapter Eight: Sorting**

Professor McGonagall unrolled a sheet of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and put on the Sorting Hat. Abbott, Hannah."

A blond girl with pigtails stepped forward and sat down on the stool. She put the hat on her head, letting it slip down over her eyes. After a short pause, the hat shouted, "Hufflepuff." The girl took off the hat, placed it on the stool, then walked briskly toward the table that was cheering.

The next girl went to Hufflepuff as well. A third girl went to Slytherin. The first boy, Terry Boot, went to Ravenclaw.

The line grew shorter. The name Longbottom was called and Draco watched in curiosity. It was the boy whose Grandmother had helped him. He had a round face but a stern demeanor. He went to Gryffindor. Draco watched him walk past the line toward the cheering table. He noticed that Potter congratulated him as the boy walked past and told him to save a seat. The two were obviously friends.

Morag McDougal stepped forward. He went to Slytherin. Then Professor McGonagall called out, "MacMillan, Earnest." The boy in front of Draco stepped forward. Draco watched as he was sent to Hufflepuff. As the cheers died down, McGonagall called out the next name on the list.

"Malfoy, Draco."

Draco could hear the hall grow silent as he stepped forward. He picked up the hat and sat on the stool. Then he put the hat over his head as had everyone before him.

"A curious mind," a small voice said inside his head. "You will have to work hard wherever I put you. But you came here knowing that. Brave boy that you are, we'd best put you in GRYFFINDOR."

Draco took the hat off with caution. No one was cheering. He stood up and sat the hat down on the stool. He then walked over to the Gryffindor table. The silence was broken as McGonagall called out the next name. Theodore Nott, a thin boy with straw-coloured hair, walked past Draco to be sorted. Draco hadn't even reached his table when the hat called out, "Slytherin." Thus, there was applause when Draco went to his table, but none of it was for him.

It was one of the older boys from the train station. He was wearing a silver badge. "I'm Percy Weasley. I'm one of the prefects for our house. Welcome to Gryffindor."

"All of you look thrilled by the fact," Draco said casually. "But then, I was told I was popular."

Percy Weasley started to say something but changed his mind. Instead, he turned his head to talk to the person on the other side of him. Thus, he missed Draco's smirk. Draco had recognized Percy. He remembered Percy's half smile when his father called Draco arrogant.

"That wasn't very nice," a girl said from across the table. Draco looked up. She was the girl who had laughed earlier at his remark. And she was frowning at Draco.

"I suppose it wasn't," Draco replied. "But then, I am not a nice person."

"That's true enough," a voice said from Draco's left side. His blind side. He turned his head slightly to see who was talking. It was Longbottom.

Draco smiled to the girl. "You see." When Percy paused in his conversation, he asked, "Where should I sit?"

Draco hid his smile when Percy gave a quick look around. Percy then gave him a smile simply to show he was smiling. "You can sit next to me if you want?"

"Thank you," Draco said in a voice he only used with prospective parents. "You're very kind."

Percy's smile froze as Draco took his seat. Draco smiled politely at the girl sitting across the table from him. He then turned his head to watch the sorting as an excuse not to say anything.

Potter was sorted into Gryffindor. He came over and sat with Longbottom, who had moved to the opposite side of the table to be as far away from Draco as possible. Dean Thomas, a small black boy was sorted as well. Percy's brother Ron, another remembered face from the train station, being late in the alphabet, had the dubious reward of sitting on Draco's other side. Finally, the last new student, Blaise Zabini, was sorted into Slytherin.

Draco listened eagerly as the headmaster began to speak but was disappointed. There were a few announcements about school activities, a warning about the dark forest, another warning to stay away from the third floor but nothing else. He sighed and rubbed his eye, wondering what he had expected. He opened it to see food. Mountains of food. And the others were already filling their plates.

Just off to his left was a plate filled with beefsteaks. Eagerly he reached out and knocked over a goblet, spilling its contents. He pulled his arm back.

"Sorry."

Draco reached for his napkin to wipe the mess, but missed on his first try. It was his eye. He couldn't judge distance. But it didn't matter. Everyone was already laughing at his clumsiness. It was hard to laugh louder.

"I'll help."

The boy on Draco's left, Ron, reached over with his own napkin.

"It's his mess," Potter was heard to hiss. "Let him clean it up."

The hand hesitated. "He . . ."

"He has a bad eye, you know," the bushy-haired girl said. "He can't judge distances very well. You can't fault him for an accident."

Potter sounded angry. "That doesn't mean we have to clean up after him."

"Harry's right," Longbottom said. "He should learn to be careful."

Draco sighed. But he was hungry. With more care, he reached again for the steaks, successfully placing one on his plate. The spilled drink was quickly forgotten as everyone turned back to their meals, and Draco ate in peace. When he finished, he pushed his plate back.

"You have to eat more than that," said the girl sitting across from him.

"It's more than I've ever eaten before."

"More for us, then." Ron said. Draco turned out of curiosity. The boy noticed him.

"My name's Ron Weasley," the boy said, holding out his hand.

Draco looked at the hand. Then his mouth spoke before he could think. "Don't bother being nice to me. You don't mean it."

Stupid. Stupid fool. Draco kept cursing himself. The boy was being friendly. Honestly friendly. But Draco simply stared at the boy. No expression. No other words.

Ron lowered his hand, embarrassed. "Sorry. I guess you don't know."

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "And what's to know?" He tried to say it without emotion but his voice sounded harsh.

The girl answered as Ron turned away. "Ron was the one who found you."

"I should thank him then," Draco said evenly.

"Don't bother," Ron muttered, angry and hurt.

"Then I won't."

Draco cursed himself again. Why did I do that? He was being nice. Then he answered his own question. You can be hurt more when they turn on you. Remember the other times. Long ago. And Draco did. The smiles. The handshakes. Let's go play. Yeah, I'm your friend. This is a friendly punch.

And Draco remembered. Hi. Oh, you're him. I can't risk it. You understand.

And Draco remembered. Janice telling him not to listen at the door.

And Draco remembered. We'll show you what you can expect.

"Why?"

"Excuse me?" the girl asked.

"Why what?" Ron asked.

"You know who I am," Draco uttered in an accusatory tone. "Why did you help me?"

Draco didn't look over. Didn't look up.

"Yeah, why?" It was Longbottom.

Ron's voice had that angry tone. "Wouldn't you?"

Draco felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I had to. You needed help. I was there."

"And it was a good thing." It was the girl again.

Draco turned his head. He looked past Ron, at the boy who was giving him an arrogant look, one that was matched by Potter.

"Longbottom, would you have? Would you have bothered?"

"Maybe. But if I did, I wouldn't have told anyone."

Draco's face did not give him away. For a moment he was back on the train. The third voice said that someone was coming.

After an awkward pause, the students began talking again. Several were listening to the conversation between Longbottom and Potter. They were explaining Quidditch to anyone who would listen. Others would ask questions on occasion. One, a muggle-born, said he played football at his old school and Quidditch sounded similar.

'Ins and Outs,' Draco thought. 'This is the same as my old school, but it's just starting. Some will be the In group. Potter and Longbottom are a good bet. Others will be on the fringe. I'm Out. Weasley will try but he may end up being Out as well.' He glanced at the girl. 'She thinks she's In but she'll push herself Out before she knows it.'

Draco remembered the train. The look that Crabbe had given him. He made a decision. He would make his own place. Miss Carmichael told him he had it in him to cope. And Tonks had told him. _They don't hate you. They're afraid of you._ He would remind them of why they were afraid. He knew enough to ask the right question.

"Potter," Draco called out during a lull in the conversation. It worked.

Everyone looked at Draco. Potter resisted the urge to say what was on his mind.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I was told you know a lot about the wizarding world. I grew up . . . as a muggle."

Potter couldn't resist showing off. "Well, my father is an important man in the ministry, and he always tells me things. What did you want to know?"

"I was curious. Exactly what did happen to Voldemort?"

Draco kept a blank expression on his face. Inwardly, he was jumping for joy. He received exactly the reaction he expected. Almost everyone around him cringed at the mention of the name. The girl was the exception. She had never heard the name before.

"Did I get the name wrong?" Draco asked innocently, knowing full well that his innocent voice never worked.

"Who is . . ." the girl began to ask. The girl next to her grabbed her arm and hastily whispered into her ear. Granger nodded, and kept quiet.

"Potter," Draco asked again, refusing to let the issue drop. "What did happen?"

There was a long pause before Potter answered.

"You should know, Malfoy. You were there."

"I was only one. It was nap time. I missed the whole thing."

"What a pity."

As Draco casually looked away from Potter and glanced at the teacher's table. He saw Snape talking with another teacher. As though they knew he was watching, Snape and the other teacher looked up at him. A sharp pain came suddenly from Draco's scar, and the boy fell into darkness.

* * *

Draco opened his eye to see where he was. It came as no surprise that he was in the infirmary again. Madam Pomfrey was looking down at him.

"Good. You're awake. You're a very stupid boy, you know."

"You heard about my conversation with Potter?"

"And, to the point, how much you had eaten at dinner. After all you had been through, you should have eaten more than that. It's no wonder you passed out."

"I wasn't hungry."

Madam Pomfrey smirked. "We both know the truth to that. It was your pride. I saw you spill your drink."

Draco nodded. She did know why he ate so little. "I can't focus very well, you know."

"You'll learn. And when your patch is removed you'll have to learn to see normally again. Unless you starve to death first. Get up and get dressed. I have one of the prefects here to escort you to the Great Hall." Her voice became stern. "You will eat a full breakfast. Even if you have to miss your first class to do so."

"I promise," Draco answered, smiling at her concern.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "As late as it is, you may miss your first class anyway. I'll give you a note for Professor McGonagall."

She pulled the blanket back and pointed Draco to his clothes, cleaned and ready for wear. Draco sighed as he pulled himself out of bed and began to take off the pajamas he was wearing. After he put on his robes, he set his earring in place and put his wand in his pocket. He announced he was ready. Madam Pomfrey looked him over carefully, then walked over and straightened his tie. That done, she hrumphed her satisfaction. Leading him to the door, she passed him on to the waiting prefect. It was Percy.

"Malfoy, do you remember me? I'm Percy Weasley."

Draco looked at the tall redhead with the prefect's badge. Telling the truth came to mind. "I remember you. From the train station. You were smiling. And last night. Were you told to help me?"

Weasley prickled at the remark. "I was reminded of my duties as a prefect. And I have a specific duty. Madam Pomfrey asked me to bring you to breakfast."

"I am a bit hungry, although I ate my fill last night."

Percy looked like he was about to say something. "I'll escort you now."

Draco followed Percy Weasley out of the infirmary and through the maze of corridors and staircases. "Gryffindor's on the Seven Floor, straight up from the stairway by the Great Hall. You'll need to remember that. And the password is Caput Draconis. Do you remember that? You'll see the portrait of the Pink Lady. Tell her that and she'll let you into the common room. Watch the staircases. They like to change. The fifth step here is a trick stair, try to avoid it."

"Is this everything I would have been told last night?"

Percy nodded. "You had a busy day. More than most of us."

"Are you being punished?"

Percy stopped. "Punished?"

"Is that why YOU were told to escort me?"

"No. I was the first prefect from our house that Madam Pomfrey saw. Why would you think I was being punished?"

Draco looked at him with his good eye. "Because I'm Draco Malfoy. My family is pure evil."

"Stories," Percy said nervously. "There's something you have to understand, Malfoy?"

"Is there?"

"Yes, there is. For ten years everyone has been talking about you and your family, and stories get bigger in the telling. So big that even I couldn't believe them. Everyone knew the story of the Boy-Who-Lived, but then you showed up." Percy gave an embarrassed smile. "I think a lot of us were disappointed."

"I'm sorry. And I thought I had dressed properly for the occasion."

Percy began walking again. "We're almost there. And Professor McGonagall talked to Professor Snape. If you have any more problems with Slytherin, they'll be made to regret it."

"And Gryffindor, too?"

"There's nothing to worry about with Gryffindor."

"There's Potter. I know he hates me. And Longbottom isn't far behind. And they're half the people I've met so far."

"Neville and Harry are friends. I'll vouch for them. And Harry, well, his father hated your father, and I guess he passed it on to his son. James Potter came close to capturing Lucius Malfoy at least twice, but your father managed to slip away both times."

Percy led him down the main staircase and pointed him to the Great Hall. His duties completed, he walked away as fast as he could.

The hall was almost empty when Draco walked in. He guessed breakfast was over. He went to sit down at an empty spot but a tall gnarly man came over to him.

"You sit at that table there. That's Gryffindor. You always sit at your house table."

Draco sat down at the empty table. "Sir, how do I get food?"

The man gave the boy a scowl. "Wait for it. They've been told about you."

Draco nodded and the man walked away. As soon as he was seated, food appeared on the table all around the boy. Pancakes and sausage, bacon and waffles, scrambled eggs and ham, and a number of other things, much more than he could possibly eat. He was amazed. It was all for him.

He piled a bit of everything on his plate and began to eat. He was grabbing another sausage link when he noticed the other boy watching him.

"I shouldn't stare. I heard the stories. I was just curious."

Draco scowled. "Do you mind if I eat while you stare?"

"Sorry, I know how you feel about us muggle-borns."

"And how is that?" Draco called out as the boy turned away. "I asked you a question."

The boy stopped. "I know that you hate us."

"Do I?" Draco was genuinely surprised. "Whatever for?"

"You don't hate us?"

Draco took a bite out of the sausage.

"I' no' do . . ." Draco swallowed. "I'm not too fond of you right now."

"I'm Justin," the boy said, and held out his hand.

"I'm eating. Do you really want a greasy palm?"

"Sorry," Justin said with a hint of embarrassment. "I'm surprised and all. You're not what I was told to expect."

"I get that a lot." Draco offered Justin a seat. "Could I ask you a couple of questions?"

Justin looked around nervously, then sat down. "You want to know why you hate muggle-borns."

"Yes, and please don't tell me it's because you are a muggle-born."

"But it is, as opposed to being wizard-born. They like to call themselves purebloods."

"And I'm a pureblood?"

Justin shook his head in affirmation. "Everybody told me you were going into Slytherin."

"I was told that, too. I guess I disappointed a lot of people."

"Not the Slytherins," Justin said with a laugh. "They seemed a bit happy."

Draco couldn't help but smirk. Regardless of what happened, he knew he was going to have a good day.


	9. Classes

**Chapter Nine: Classes**

The task of the day, now that breakfast was done, was finding the way to the first class. Draco was aided in this by having one of the ghosts throw a trash basket over his head and push him. Finding out later that the ghost was the Poltergeist he had been warned about did not make him feel better. It also helped that he still wasn't used to seeing with one eye. Despite being late he had to continue to walk slowly. It was actually a good thing when the cat hissed at him.

"You should be in class," the gnarly man from breakfast said a few moments later.

"Transfiguration," Draco admitted.

"Then you'd better hurry up." The man had his permanent scowl in place.

"I happen to be lost, so there ain't much point in rushing. Is there?"

If there had been a snarling contest, Draco would have come in second. But it would have been a close second.

The man grumbled something inaudible and waved for Draco to follow him. Draco turned around, because he was heading in the wrong direction. They turned right at one corridor, left at the next, took a staircase to another floor and straight down the corridor. They turned a corner, and Filch opened a door to a classroom.

"Found this one lost over near Arithmancy," the man called out and pushed Draco through the door. Several of the students were smirking

"Thank you, Mister Filch. And what do you have to say for yourself, Mister Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall was not amused by his lateness.

"Begging your pardon, Professor, but there's a pig in the classroom."

Only Draco and McGonagall did not laugh.

"Mister Malfoy, that is my desk." There was more laughter. "If you had been here on time you would have understood that. Do you think you can find your seat?"

He pointed to an empty desk. "If it's there, yes, Professor."

"It is. Now sit down."

Draco gave her the note he was given. Then he sat and watched curiously as McGonagall turned the pig back into a desk. And so his first ever class in magic began.

For Charms he had Professor Flitwick, a diminutive man who stood on a stack of books when he taught the class. Wednesday nights everyone climbed to the top of the astronomy tower to learn all the stars and planets. And there were other classes.

The teacher for his worst class was a solidly built man with long black hair. He almost glared at Draco when he entered the classroom. Draco couldn't help notice that the glare turned into a smile when the teacher looked at Potter. The odd thing was that the man seemed familiar.

"For those of you who don't know me," the teacher said loudly and clearly, "I am Professor Black. This class is the most important class you will have. It is called Defense Against the Dark Arts. And that is what I intend to do. To teach each and every one of you to defend yourselves. I know some of you are already familiar with basic defense."

Draco noticed that Professor Black eyed Potter, and then Longbottom.

"I will be using those students to help me in demonstrations and to help tutor in case any of you need additional instruction. Especially if any of you have doubts about what constitutes the Dark Arts."

It was foolish, but Draco smiled when Professor Black looked in his direction.

Now it was Friday and the class was Potions.

Draco was curious about this class. Professor Snape was the one who was in charge of disciplining Crabbe and Goyle. He was also worried because Gryffindor shared this class with Slytherin. Fortunately, the two groups automatically separated themselves, and Draco found himself on the opposite side of the dungeon from them, sitting next to the bushy-haired girl. He had found out her name. Hermione Granger. She liked to lecture him on how to deal with other people. He liked to tell her to shut her sodding mouth.

Snape walked briskly into the classroom calling for silence. He reached his desk and turned around, scorn on his face.

"There will be no foolish wand waving in this class. You, Potter, pay attention. This is not the time to take notes."

"Sir . . . "Potter began to say but was cut off.

"And you are not to talk whenever you feel like it. One point from Gryffindor for disrupting the class." The Professors's eyes turned to Draco. "Some of you may wonder how you ever ended up at this school, but in this class you will learn . . . "

Snickers were heard from the Slytherins. They had snickered at Potter and been ignored but this time Snape turned angrily.

"Even though some of you may be in my house, do not expect any leniency from me." He was looking directly at Crabbe and Goyle. "I will not have my class disrupted. This is your only warning."

It was already obvious to most Gryffindors, including Draco, that if one of them had made any noise they would not have been given any kind of warning. Draco was hardly surprised that Snape chose those two Slytherins to look at. The man clearly knew who did what on the train and did not appreciate it. He was surprised that Snape would be so open about it. Draco was puzzling it out when he heard his name.

"Malfoy, I do not allow daydreaming."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I was . . . It won't happen again."

"Malfoy, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Draco was confused at the question but couldn't help noticing that Granger had her hand raised.

"I wouldn't know, Sir"

"Couldn't be bothered to crack a book before you came here?"

"My books and supplies were kept for me, Sir. I had no place to keep them at . . . "

Draco realized what he was about to say and stopped suddenly, his face turning red from embarrassment. The last thing he needed was for everyone to know that he had no friends in the muggle world as well.

"At the orphanage?" Snape asked. "Well at least you have a legitimate excuse. Potter. You were so eager, earlier. What is the answer?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"Are you an orphan, Mister Potter?"

"No, Sir."

"Then you must be lazy. Another point from Gryffindor." Snape turned at the sound of a snicker. "Mister Goyle, please show how much smarter you are that you can be rude to these ignorant Gryffindors. The answer, if you please."

Goyle, and the other Slytherins, looked surprised. While the Gryffindors had been warned about Snape, the Slytherins were informed.

"We are waiting, Mister Goyle."

"Uh, I, Uh, don't remember, Sir."

Snape smiled as though he was talking to a small child. "You must have forgotten in all the excitement, your poor thing."

"Three students. And only one who COULDN'T have found the answer." He looked at Granger. "Put your hand down, you foolish girl."

Snape started his lesson at that point and everyone began writing down the potion they were supposed to prepare. Draco tried to write but his eye began to tear and everything became blurry. Why had Snape humiliated him like that? He had it in for Potter. That much was obvious. But why me? Draco paused. Snape had also spread his abuse to Goyle.

"Professor?" It was Granger's voice. Draco barely heard. He heard Snape say something and felt a hand lift him. His eye still blurry, he was led from the classroom. Draco soon found himself at the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey cast the Nox spell again and removed Draco's eye patch. Her wand showed a dim glow and she waved it in front of Draco as she had him cover his right eye.

"You are a stubborn boy, Mister Malfoy. And your eye is stubborn, too. It insists on being perfect. I want you to report to me at once if this situation occurs again. Was there much pain with the tearing?"

Draco hesitated to answer. He was crying because he was humiliated, but no one ever thought about that possibility. He must have misunderstood Snape's intentions as well as the other student's reaction.

"No, Madam Pomfrey. I just couldn't stop crying."

The school healer replaced the patch over the boy's eye, then removed the spell. The light in the room returned to normal. "You're fine now. Do you have any more classes today?"

"It's a half day."

"Then I suggest you take a walk after lunch. Outside. The exercise will do you good."

When Draco stepped out of the infirmary, Hermione Granger was waiting for him. "I'll walk with you to the dining hall."

"You didn't have to wait."

"Just thought you might like some company." Granger looked him in the eye. "You've been by yourself all week."

Draco snarled. "It's what Snape said. You just feel sorry for me. Well, forget it."

As Draco walked away, Granger called out to him in a snotty voice. "You are the most arrogant brat I've ever met. Did you know that? And I don't feel sorry for you. It's just that you're the most interesting person in this school. Maybe you should stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Draco stopped at the revelation. He tried to sound in control of himself. "I don't feel sorry for myself. I guess I would, if I bothered to try." Draco paused, then asked in a voice that showed his embarrassment. "Don't you mind being seen with me?"

"It doesn't matter." Granger had a humourless smile. "I'm too smart and too much of a showoff. Nobody really wants to be with me. Even you."

"Yeah, I know about me."

"Hungry?"

"Starved."

As they headed toward the Great Hall, Draco remembered what Janice had said. He would make friends, but they wouldn't be the best people. Granger fit that description perfectly. She wasn't smart. She was brilliant. Her skills at magic were already showing themselves after only one week. Draco hated Granger when they first met for trying to be bossy. He wanted to hate her now, but he couldn't. Hermione had struck him in his one vulnerable spot, and Draco had not even realized it was there.

Draco was lonely. Now he had a friend. It was the most obnoxious girl in the school but . . . Draco couldn't finish the thought. It didn't matter. Granger, Hermione, had done something no one else here had done to him. Offered to be a friend. A friend of Draco Malfoy, the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who had been told too many times in the past that he didn't deserve any friends.

Draco paused in his thoughts. Janice had given him that blank book. He would make it a point to write that memory down.

* * *

Draco was eating his second grilled cheese sandwich when Hermione finally asked him what was wrong. "Is there a problem with your eye?"

"A problem? I only have one. Madam Pomfrey told me the other one would grow back but it will take a while. Maybe as long as Christmas."

"But it will grow back? I should have known they could do that. When I saw you on the train . . ."

Draco looked up in time to see Hermione shudder. He was reminded of something.

"It was you I heard scream."

Hermione nodded. "It's a good thing Ronald Weasley was there. I wouldn't have known what to do. All I saw was the blood."

Draco looked over to where Weasley was sitting across from Potter and Longbottom. Trying to be In, Draco thought. He'd be better off with us. At least we wouldn't look down on him.

"Draco?"

He turned back. "Sorry. You made me think. I should apologize to him. For the way I acted that first night." He paused. "Hermione, I've decided to become friends with Weasley. What do you think?"

Hermione smirked. "You can't just decide to be friends with someone."

"You did."

"That was different. We gravitated toward each other."

"Gravitated?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It seems like we end up sitting together in most classes."

"That's because nobody likes either of us. You're too smart and I'm the next Dark Lord."

"I'm smart enough to know that's a lie."

"Is it? I'm only eleven. Anything can happen. Voldemort was eleven once. I bet he never thought about being evil until he was older."

Hermione hissed at him. "You're not supposed to say that name."

Draco smirked. "Why? Just because everyone else is afraid to say it? Beside, it shakes 'em up when I do that." He looked across the table at the girl, Lavender Brown, who had looked up when he said that name. He smiled. She frowned at him and went back to eating.

"Where are you going, now?" Hermione asked as Draco got up.

I'm going to try to make a friend, Draco thought. One step at a time. And my first step will be to show him I know I'm not perfect. Even if it is a lie. Draco smirked. "I think it's time to apologize to someone."

Draco walked over to where Weasley was listening to Potter and Longbottom talking about Quidditch.

"Excuse me, Weasley, um, Ron," he said humbly.

Weasley looked at him warily. "Yeah?"

"I never thanked you for what you did." Draco paused to wipe his hand nervously on his trouser leg. "And I owe you an apology for acting like a prat at the welcoming feast. I wasn't at my best." He looked at the floor. "Thank you . . . for getting help."

Inwardly, Draco was smiling. Weasley seemed embarrassed with everyone watching him. The red-haired boy obviously didn't know how to respond. Draco let a weak smile come to his lips. "Thanks." He turned and walked away. In all, he thought, a good first step.

"Only him?" It was Potter. "He wasn't the only one you were rude to."

Draco turned angrily and looked directly into the boy's brown eyes. "An' whot's that 'ave to do wit' the price of eggs? I giv you as good as I got."

As he turned away, he caught sight of the Weasley twins. Weasleys are everywhere, Draco thought. They were looking at him and smiling. Apparently they liked to listen to people shouting. He walked back to his place and set down.

"The price of eggs?" Hermione asked.

"It's somethin' to say."

"Do you know, Draco, your accent changes when you get angry."

"It don't . . . doesn't?" Draco glared at her briefly then shook his head. She was right. When he thought back to what he had said, he realized he must have sounded just like Mick. He had to watch himself. He needed to keep using his meeting new foster parents voice.

"Hermione, Pomfrey told me to take a walk outside after I ate. Would you like to join me?"

"A wonderful idea. You can tell me all about your big plans when you take over the world. And I'll tell you what you missed in potions."

"But you missed potions, too."

"Pavarti Patil lent me her notes. We can look them over together."

They took a long path toward the lake after they left the building. Hermione was reading from the notes as they went.

"You're doing better," she said at one point.

"You mean I'm not complaining as much about how you lecture me all the time."

"No, you still complain too much. But you're walking more easily now. You're adjusting."

Draco gave her a half smile. "And everyone will laugh when I lose the patch. I'll have to get used to seeing . . . again."

Hermione paused as they neared the lake. She went so far as to look up from the notes. "It was scary, that first night. We were tramping through the woods in the dark, right up to the edge of the lake. Then I saw Hogwarts for the first time. It was beautiful. It was lit up like a fairy tale castle."

Draco turned around and looked at the school. "Can't see any fairy tales from here. I never had the chance to see the grand view of it."

Hermione noticed his change of tone.

"What is it? What happened, Draco?"

"Do you know what hurts me the most? The little things. They beat me senseless. I never had the chance to defend myself. But I don't really care about that. I don't know why but I don't. It's all those small things. Seeing the school for the first time. Riding the train. I may not have met anyone, but I might have. Things would have been different."

"You can see the castle when we go home for the holidays."

Draco looked at her. She said something wrong and she was trying so hard to make it better. But she didn't understand.

"I don't have a home, Hermione. Remember what Snape said. I grew up in an orphanage. They didn't call it that, but that's what it was. I won't be going anywhere for the holidays."

"I'll talk to my Mum and . . ."

Draco's look silenced Hermione. She only said two more words. "I'm sorry."

Draco shrugged. "I guess I walked enough already. We should head back."

Hermione nodded. She fell in step with him as they turned back up the path. She would glance at him every now and then and Draco couldn't help but notice her worried look. It had a touch of fear in it.

I understand, Draco thought to himself. She's afraid I'll just walk away and she'll lose me as a friend. Then she'll be alone. But she doesn't understand. If I walk away, I'll be alone as well. And I just found a friend.

"They'll just feel sorry for me," Draco said casually.

"Who?"

"Your Mum and Dad. It would be worse than staying here. They'll try extra hard to be nice an' all."

"Didn't think of that," Hermione said as a thin smile came to her lips. "Maybe later. When we've been friends awhile."

Draco couldn't help smiling as he looked at her. Then something over her shoulder caught his eye.

"Hermione," he said pointing, "Do you see that man over there." It was the large man from the bank. He was outside a hut, chopping firewood.

Hermione looked. "Hard to miss him. He's the Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. I asked Professor McGonagall. She says he's a half-giant."

"Half nothing. He's near four meters if not more."

As they watched, Hagrid spotted them looking at him. He put his axe down and waved. Draco waved back.

"C'mon," Draco said. "I met him at the bank. He said he knew my . . . mum."


	10. Hagrid

A/N: I love the holiday season. I have had more free time over the past fortnight than I've had in the three months prior. I originally said I might have some delays, but I never thought I would be able to hurry things up a bit. The truth is that I goofed. Chapter Nine was supposed to include this chapter as well, but I uploaded the old chapter by mistake. As a result, there will be one more chapter in this story than I originally planned. Another thing, I may no longer be responding to all reviews, partly because of time and partly because I can't think of anything to say except thank you for reviewing. It's nice after the first review, but I can't keep saying just that. I will try to answer any questions that a reviewer has. Say "La Vee".

If I may be serious for a moment. Emjay82 is an author I discovered recently. She is writing a story called "A Light Against the Growing Darkness". It is a crossover between Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. It was not what I expected. For one, there are no hobbits. For two, I like it enough to openly suggest it if someone is looking for a good read. (Assuming you share my taste in stories.)

Welcome all to the New Year.

**Chapter Ten: Hagrid**

Hagrid the Giant smiled at them as the two came closer.

"Hello, Mister Hagrid," Draco said as he walked up. "We saw you here."

"And ye thought ye'd stop by ta say hello." It didn't seem possible but Hagrid's smile grew. "Tha's the kind of thing yer mother would do. And who's yer friend?"

Draco couldn't help but return the smile. "Mister Hagrid, this is Hermione Granger. She's in Gryffindor with me."

"Hello," Hermione said cautiously, almost afraid of the man because of his height. Hesitantly, she held out her hand. Hagrid engulfed it, and a good portion of her arm, with his own hand. His grip for a man his size was surprisingly gentle.

"Ye've got a good frien' in this boy," Hagrid told her. "I knew he was a'right from the start." He leaned down to whisper, although the whisper could be clearly heard. "I'm glad ta see I'm not the only one ta ignore them silly rumours."

They all stared at each other for a minute unsure of what to say. Then Hagrid thumped his chest. "I'm bein' a blasted fool. Ye come an' visit an' I don't even invite ye in. What say ye help me carry in the firewood. I'll make some tea and the two of ye can tell me all about yer first week at school."

Draco and Hermione readily agreed. They each grabbed as much wood as they could, which was only three or four of the cut logs each. Hagrid scooped up most of the remaining wood and led the way.

The hut was sparse for space but well filled despite that. A bed hung against one wall and an iron stove against the other. In between stood a table and chairs. A couch took up the rest of the wall next to the bed. A cabinet, safely far enough away from the stove, took up the rest of the wall on that side. Axes, a crossbow and other assorted tools and weapons hung on the walls. In short order, Hagrid threw a few logs into the stove and set the tea kettle. He turned and sat on one of the chairs, not commenting on how Draco and Hermione could barely see over the top of the table.

"So, how do ye like your teachers?"

"They're wonderful, most of them," Hermione readily admitted. "Professor McGonagall is my favorite, I think, and not because she's our head of house."

"She's stern though," Draco said. "My first day I was late, and she made me feel like I betrayed her."

"You didn't help," Hermione told him. She turned to Hagrid. "She demanded he explain himself and he tried to warn her there was a pig in the classroom."

Hagrid's laugh was infectious. Even Draco was grinning like a madman. Especially when the giant looked at him.

"Ye did a good one. She never expected an answer like that."

"She was fair, though," Draco admitted. "She treated everyone the same. No one was given special treatment. Not like some teachers."

"Like Professor Snape," Hermione noted. "He's always looking for a reason to take points from Gryffindor."

"He seemed fair, though," Draco said defensively.

"Fair?" Hermione was incredulous. "And how would you know? We missed most of the class because of your eye."

"But did you see how he acted to everyone he called. He didn't have a nice word for anyone."

Hagrid laughed again. "Wha' he means, Hermione, is tha' Snape hates everyone. Although he is partial to the Slytherins when it comes to givin' house points. It is his house."

Hermione scowled. "Being mean to everyone is not my idea of fair."

"You want unfair," Draco asked. "What about Professor Black? He smiles and praises Potter and Longbottom and saves his scowls for me. Once he finds out you're my friend he'll give you the same treatment."

"He's not unfair."

"Then I'm wrong?"

"Well . . ."

Hagrid interrupted by getting up to get the tea. "Don't you to go arguin' about that. Both of ye should know somethin' about Sirius Black." He set out the cups and began to pour. "He is partial to Harry Potter and he has a good reason. He's Harry's Godfather. And Neville Longbottom's been Harry's best friend since they was babies. If ye ever see 'em talkin' outside of class, ye'll hear both of 'em call him Uncle Sirius."

"And you're close to them?" Draco asked, afraid he was about to be hurt by the answer.

Hagrid noticed the look on the boy's face. He grinned. "I was close enough ta hear 'em talkin' the other day. An' Professor Black did introduce me. They were polite."

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows. "You don't sound impressed."

"I'm no fool, Hermione. I know how most people react to a giant. Even if I'm only half giant. They were polite enough. But ye'll never see them come ta my hut just to say hello." He patted her lightly on the shoulder. "There's polite and there's friendly. Ye can talk all day to polite folk just fine. But ye talk ta friendly folk, ye end up havin' to explain yerself. 'Cause friendly folk honestly want to know. They care."

Draco felt small at those words.

"I'm not really a friend."

Hagrid didn't scowl. "An' now ye have to explain yerself."

Draco ignored the fact that Hermione snorted. "You said you knew my parents. I wanted to find out more about them."

Hagrid nodded. "Ye could 'ave asked Dumbledore. He knows more than anyone I'd bet. Or any of the teachers. Why'd ye decide to ask me?"

"Well . . ." Draco couldn't think. Why would he decide to ask Hagrid. He had only met him once before and that was for less than a minute. ". . . You said you were, uh . . ." His mind went blank.

Hagrid finished his sentence. " . . . a friend of yer mother? She was barely older than you when she first sat in that very same chair. An' all because she wanted ta know what a giant was like. She came by regular, an' brought some of her other friends." He leaned forward. "She even brought Lucius Malfoy, the very day he asked her to marry him. She wanted my approval."

Draco watched as Hagrid wiped a tear away.

"Sorry," Hagrid said as he pulled out a huge handkerchief and blew his nose. "I was rememberin' all the good things and I reminded myself of . . . when she died. I'd been hearin' all those stories about Lucius Malfoy. I refused to believe them. Then the stories began to include yer mom. I didn't know what to think. Then I held you in my arms the night they died. Ye were asleep. I was told ye cried until ye had nothin' left in ye." He looked directly at Draco. "I knew yer mom. An' I like to think I knew yer dad. An' when I looked at you I decided those stories had to be rubbish. Lily Evans was my friend. Lily and Lucius Malfoy were my friends."

Draco glanced at Hermione. She was wiping her eyes as well. He took a deep breath. He had to return the man's honesty the only way he knew. He put as much pride in his voice as he could. "And now their son is your friend."

That was a mistake, Draco thought, as Hagrid grabbed him into a hug.

* * *

"He was nice," Hermione admitted as they walked back to the castle. "I only wish I didn't have one of those biscuits."

"I had one, too," Draco admitted.

"And you dunked yours into your tea."

Draco sighed. "It didn't help."

"I wish I knew him better. I wanted to ask him about the robbery. He probably won't know anything, though."

"Um. What robbery?"

"Nothing was actually stolen, mind you," Hermione explained. "Ron Weasley has the Daily Prophet delivered every day and he pointed it out. It happened in the beginning of August. And Harry Potter mentioned that he was there that day. Apparently someone tried to break into Gringotts but the vault they wanted to rob had already been emptied."

"Could have been my vault," Draco sniffed. "I emptied it."

Hermione paused. "You were there?"

"Unless Potter went to the bank on a different day than he went to buy his robes. That's where we met. Madam Malkins."

"Harry didn't mention you."

"He wouldn't."

Draco stopped. Hermione stopped as well and looked at him as he turned to stare at Hagrid's hut. "I'm here on official business." He patted his chest with his right hand. "That's what he told me. When we met in Gringotts."

"You think he emptied the vault?"

A shrug of the shoulders. "It makes sense. Don't know what it was, though. It could 'ave been anything."

"It would have to be small enough to fit into his pocket." Hermione smirked as she remembered how big Hagrid was. "You're right. It could have been anything."

* * *

It was Wednesday. Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Black was strutting back and forth in front of the classroom as everyone took their seats. He glanced around the room before he said anything.

"Who can tell me the difference between a curse and a jinx? Malfoy."

"A curse affects the complete physical or mental state of the victim. A jinx only affects a part of the victim."

Black frowned. "You would know about curses." He smiled as he turned away. "What we are here to study are the most common curses. Can anyone name a curse?" He smiled. "Longbottom."

"Stupify."

Professor Black nodded. "You can always tell which new students have a father who's an Auror. They always seem to know that one. Stupify stuns your opponent long enough to take him into custody." He nodded to the boy next to Longbottom. "Potter, what's the other one every Auror knows."

"Expelliarmus," Potter said with a grin. "It disarms your opponent."

"Very good. And the rest of you. Who else knows any curses?"

Hermione raised her hand. Draco would wager she knew every one. Apparently, so did the Professor. When he pointed at Hermione, he specified that she give only one curse. She gave him, "Incarcerous. It binds your opponent with ropes."

A few others raised their hands as well. Professor Black would point at a student and ask for a curse. Then he would point at another student. He gave every student a chance to mention a curse.

Draco saw the look in the Professor's eye. Black was about to call on him again.

"Malfoy. Do you know any curses?"

Draco frowned. He knew what curse he was supposed to mention. He decided he would answer the question his own way. He smiled. Then he brushed his hand over the scar on his forehead.

"Yes."

Professor Black did something that Draco did not expect. He nodded then made it a point to look at the entire class.

"Not all curses are benign. Every curse mentioned so far is one that is used to defend against the Dark Arts. To disarm or disable a person without doing harm. Is there anyone in this class who does not know what curse Mister Malfoy and myself were referring to? Because there are other curses out there. Ones that hurt and maim. And Kill. I want every student in this class to understand that Defense is not a joke. This is the most important class you have."

After the class was over, Hermione joined Draco as they walked back to the common room.

"You see. Professor Black is fair. He wanted to point out how serious curses can be."

"I was useful to him," Draco said sullenly. "I think he wanted to remind me of what happened. He didn't have to single me out like that. You heard his remark earlier. I would know about curses."

"I know he doesn't like you, but he was trying to be fair." Hermione paused. "You're right. I'm prevaricating." She looked at Draco. "Lying to myself."

"You're right, though," Draco admitted. "He may be trying to be fair, but he still doesn't like me. His idea of being fair is not insulting me every time he talks to me."

"I wouldn't talk to you at all." It was Potter's voice. Draco started to turn his head when he was hit on the left shoulder. "Sorry," Potter said wryly. "Just trying to get by."

"Me, too," Longbottom said as he pushed against Draco.

Both boys snickered as they passed and headed briskly up the hall. Hermione quickly switched sides with Draco so that he was walking along the wall. "I hope they try something now," she muttered.

"You can't protect me all the time," Draco told her.

"Only when they're coming from your blind side."

"One good thing," he noted. "Now I don't have to look at you, either."

Draco laughed when Hermione hit him in the shoulder.

* * *

It was Friday afternoon. The first broom flying lesson. The Slytherins were there as well but the houses separated themselves, as usual. Draco was standing at the far end of the line. Hermione was directly across him, in the second line. Both were nervous. Hermione hated doing something she could not learn from a book. Draco hated doing something he had never done before with people watching who would know his every mistake.

Madam Hooch gave the command. Draco put his hand out over the broom as he was instructed and called, "UP." The broom did nothing. Draco glanced around and saw that quite a few others had failed on their first try as well. He also noted that Potter and Longbottom were holding their brooms. And smirking.

"UP." Draco gave emphasis to the word, making it an order. The broom flew up into his hand. He looked up. Hermione gave him a quick smile. Her broom was also in her hand.

Madam Hooch gave the instructions on how to mount the broom, and Draco followed them to the letter. When everyone was ready, she pointed to the first line. "You will push off, go no more than five feet, then pull back to land your brooms. GO."

Draco pushed off the ground and lifted his feet up as he had been shown. As the broom rose, he slipped sideways and fell to the ground. With a grunt, he picked himself up and reached for the broom. To look at him, one would think he never even heard the laughter from the other students. To look inside him, one would have seen that he would rather have died than to be the laughingstock he was becoming.

"Remember to hold on," Potter said with a sneer, causing more laughter. Several of the Slytherins were vocally agreeing with him.

"Enough of that," Hooch threatened and the laughter died away. "Malfoy, try again. Use a firm grip and keep your balance."

Draco mounted the broom again. Holding on tightly, he kicked off as he was shown. This time he did not slide off the broom. Instead, he twisted on the broom and landed on his back, the broom still in his hands.

Madam Hooch gave an angry glare when the students started to laugh again. The laughter died quickly but the grins remained. For all of his infamous parentage, the Malfoy cur was proving his incompetence.

Draco tried again.

He fell again.

"Sucks to this," Draco yelled as he threw the broom from him. Madam Hooch was faced with a choice. Stop Draco from leaving, or bring the class to order. She chose to bring the rest of the class to order. She did not stop him as he left the Quidditch pitch. She could not stop the laughter either. Not right away.

"Madam Hooch." It was Potter calling out. "I could show him how it's done."

Draco didn't even bother looking back. He kept walking until he was out of the pitch altogether. Professor McGonagall was standing there with Hagrid. When she saw him, she rushed inside the pitch to see what the problem was. Draco was left looking at Hagrid.

"Ye wan' to tell me wha' happened."

"I hate sodding Brooms," Draco said harshly.

"Ye'd rather have some tea instead?"

Draco wiped away a tear. "Yeah. Thanks, Hagrid."

"Tha's what friends are for."

Hagrid led the boy to his hut and put the kettle on. Draco was well into his second cup when he finally told Hagrid what happened with the broom.

"But that don't make any sense," Hagrid told him. "Them brooms are spelled to make sure you can't slip off 'em. Someone hexed yer broom. I think we better talk to Madam Hooch."

There was a knock on the door. When Hagrid opened it, Madam Hooch was standing there. "Well I'll be. We was just settin' to come find you."

Madam Hooch smiled as she came inside. "Then you figured it out." She was looking at Draco.

"I thought it was me," he admitted. "I didn't think."

"You should know, Mister Malfoy, that I frown on pranks, especially ones that can lead to a student being injured. I've checked every student's wand, except one. I want you to come with me when we confront him."

Draco followed Madam Hooch out of Hagrid's hut. He felt comforted that Hagrid insisted on coming as well. As they walked, his mood brightened. This confrontation could be fun.

"Where are we going, Madam Hooch?"

"To Dumbledore's Office. I've sent him and Professor McGonagall a message and Potter should be there waiting for us."

Draco frowned. It would be Potter. Either him or Longbottom. Then he made note of something odd. "Madam Hooch. You said you checked everyone else's wand but his. Why didn't you check his?"

"I didn't check yours either for the same reason. Although I don't have to check yours. He also left before the class was over. He bragged that he could show you how to fly and decided to show off. I have to admit that his skill was impressive for a boy his age. And apparently your head of house agreed. Professor McGonagall spotted him. She decided to use him as Gryffindor's seeker. Not that he'll ever play after I'm through with him."

Hagrid saw Draco's confused look. "She's talkin' about Quidditch. Your house team was terrible last year." He added hopefully, "they're lookin' better this year but there's no one good for seeker. Ye know about Quidditch, don't ye?"

"I've heard talk. Potter said he was a natural so I stopped paying attention."

"Wait til ye see yer first match. Ye'll like it well enough."

They reached the statue of a gargoyle and Madam Hooch said, "Peppermint Imps." The gargoyle leapt aside and let them enter.

* * *

Draco had a brief moment of happiness. When he entered Dumbledore's office, Harry Potter looked at him. It was a look of defeat.

Hagrid's wistful comment about Quidditch had Draco thinking, however. Now that he knew what Potter had done, he wanted revenge. But any act of vengeance would only make his situation worse. It was as the matter was discussed that Draco saw the solution. It was perfect because of one thing. Potter hated him.

"Professor," Madam Hooch called as the small group entered.

"I received your message, Madam Hooch," Dumbledore told her. "And I have told Professor McGonagall and Mister Potter the reason." He held his hand out to the black-haired boy. "Harry. Your wand please."

Potter took out his wand and handed it over. Not once did he meet the headmaster's eyes. Dumbledore held the wand in front of him.

"Priori Incantatum."

Draco watched in curiosity as the wand gave off a faint glow, demonstrating the last spell it had cast, the lumos spell. Dumbledore repeated the charm, and the next to last spell was demonstrated, a repulsion spell. The headmaster nodded, then handed the wand back to Potter.

"Mister Potter, I will leave it to your head of house to decide your punishment. Also . . ." He smiled sorrowfully at Professor McGonagall who nodded in agreement. " . . . I think we can forget about any exemptions to the Quidditch rules."

"Yes, Sir," Potter muttered.

"Mister Potter." McGonagall voice held quiet anger. She led the boy from the headmaster's office.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Madam Hooch said, "for resolving the matter so quickly."

"We are in agreement, Rolanda. Such a prank could have caused serious harm. Even the Weasley Twins have avoided crossing that line." Dumbledore looked up at Hagrid. "Did you need to see me for anything?" His eyes twinkled. "Or did you come for moral support."

Hagrid gave a gruff cough. "Jes' wanted to make sure all was fair an' done." He gave Draco's shoulder a squeeze.

"And you, Draco. Are you satisfied with the turn of events?"

Draco smiled. "Excuse me, Sir. You said exemption? May I ask why?"

Dumbledore turned to look at Draco. He glanced briefly at Madam Hooch then looked back. "It seems, Draco, that after you left, Harry put on a display of his own skills. Your head of house saw him fly and thought his skill remarkable. She was asking me to approve an exemption to the rules against first years playing. I was quite willing to agree when Madam Hooch's message arrived. It seems that whatever skills Harry possesses he lacks the maturity to use them wisely."

"Oh, then first years aren't allowed to play," Draco said in an even tone. "Hagrid told me that our team did poorly last year."

"They were in last place," Dumbledore said.

"That is poor," Draco admitted. "Hagrid told me that this year's team was an improvement, but they lacked a . . ." Draco paused. His voice held a curious note. " . . . a seeker? Is that the correct term?"

Draco's knew everyone had their eyes on him. He had to reveal himself now or they would guess on their own.

"May I ask a favour, Professor. Not for myself, nor for Potter, but for our house." Draco kept himself from smirking with difficulty

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, but his tone was serious. "Am I to understand, Mister Malfoy, that you would like me to give Harry Potter the exemption? Even after the cruel trick he played on you?"

"You did say that Professor McGonagall would be responsible for his punishment, Sir. But letting Potter play is something that would benefit my house. It would benefit Gryffindor." Even if it means letting that bastard play, Draco added to himself. But he smiled. Potter would always remember that he had his chance to play Quidditch because someone he hates let him. It was a subtle way to get back at him but it might help more in the long term.

"Under the circumstances, a most magnanimous offer." Dumbledore replied. "And an interesting revenge. Harry will now have you to thank. I don't think he will appreciate that."

Hagrid snorted. "Why, ye cunnin' little schemer. Tha's the kind o' thing yer mother would 'ave done."

Draco couldn't help but grin. Even Madam Hooch knew why he wanted to do this.

"There is one thing." Dumbledore was still looking at Draco. "If your opinion of Harry is correct, he may look upon this as proof he can do anything and get away with it."

Draco swallowed hard. He hadn't thought of that. Then Madam Hooch spoke up from behind him.

"Don't worry, Albus. I'll make sure he understands. One wrong move and I'll ban him from the team. And not just for the rest of the year."

Madam Hooch led Draco from the office. The boy noted that Hagrid asked to talk to Dumbledore privately. As he walked back to Gryffindor, Draco reminded himself of the scene at Gringotts. Hagrid thumped his coat pocket. Official Hogwarts Business.


	11. A New Friend

A/N: A new year begins and, alas, a new work schedule. Who knows what the future will bring? I do. I've seen the work reports.

I would also like to thank Prozactherobert for catching an error which has been corrected. In the previous chapter, I described the Incarcerous spell but called it the Impedimentia spell.

Chapter Eleven: A New Friend

Draco couldn't sleep. Too much had happened in the past two weeks although, he noticed, Potter never said anything. (Potter didn't deny any of the rumours either.) Most everyone else still ignored him, except Hermione. On top of everything else, his eye itched. The one he couldn't rub.

It was three in the morning when he gave up. He knew he wasn't going to sleep and he couldn't stand just lying in bed. And he had thought of something to do.

Carefully and quietly, he got out of bed. He looked at his best shirt and trousers and decided against them. He pulled out his jeans and a pullover. Along with his socks and trainers he walked to the washroom. Cleaned and dressed, he slipped back into his room and grabbed a small box from his trunk, a present from Janice, stationery.

Draco remembered his instructions as he sat down at a table in the common room. He mentioned nothing about magic in his letter to Janice. He also distorted the facts slightly. He was an obvious favorite of one teacher. And strongly disliked by another teacher. And, by coincidence, the two teachers hated each other. And he made friends. She was right. They weren't the best sort.

Draco mentioned Hermione. That her parents were dentists. That she was already proven to be the smartest student in their year. That she knew it. He also mentioned Justin. That they met at breakfast. How he came to school not knowing anything, just like someone else Janice knew. It was a good idea to let Janice think he had more than one friend.

Nothing was said about the rumours. Or the assault on the train. Or his eye. Draco's letter said everything was nice. Everything was better than he expected. Everything was going to work out.

That done, Draco folded the letter, put it in the envelope and sealed it. He wrote the address Janice had given him. He even put a stamp on it. Despite taking his time, it was still dark. He pulled out another sheet of stationary. He wrote at the top, "Mick".

It was a harder letter to write. He knew Mick and Janice would compare notes and he didn't want to write the same things. He mentioned his friends briefly. Then he wrote about some of his classes. How he had to take astronomy. Once a week they had a class at midnight. They even had telescopes to look at the stars and the planets. They had greenhouses on the school grounds and he had classes there to learn about plants and things. And he mentioned the forest. Students weren't allowed to enter so he would have to sneak out one night.

As he signed his name at the bottom, Draco remembered something. He had no idea how to mail a letter. If they were wizards he could use an owl but no one told him what to do if they were muggles. He didn't seal that envelope. He would wait until he found out. Satisfied, he slipped back into his room and put the stationery away.

Noticing that the sun had finally risen, Draco decided on breakfast. Carrying his two letters, he made his way to the Great Hall. At the least, he would find out what happened when he was early.

As he came to the staircase leading down to the Great Hall, he heard a familiar voice. "Hi, Draco." Justin smiled at him and gave a small wave. "You're up early."

"Wotcha, Justin. Couldn't sleep. Been up for hours. What about you?"

"Detention. I had to help Professor Sprout collect Asphodel. It has to be picked just before dawn."

Draco smiled at the mention of detention. "What did you do? And how did you get caught." They began walking together toward breakfast.

"I wrote a letter to my best mate at my old school. Sent it by owl."

Draco looked at the other boy with interest. "And what happened?"

"The Ministry of Magic sent a pair of wizards to his house. To make him forget about the owl and the letter. Then they told the school. Professor Sprout gave me a big lecture about how to do it properly."

Draco showed him his two letters. "And how do I mails these?"

Justin laughed. "Give them to your head of house. She'll send them to the Ministry. Someone there will see that it's posted with the muggle mail."

"And if they want to write back?"

"Here," Justin said as he pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket. "It a postal address in London. The Ministry of Magic will forward the letters to you."

Grateful, Draco pocketed the address.

Justin Finch-Fletchley proved to be an amazing person. He decided on his own that he was Draco's friend. And he proved it later by willingly joining Draco and Hermione in Herbology, a class Gryffindor shared with Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout had them separate into groups of four. Since there were ten from each house, that meant that at least one group had to be a mix of the two houses. A girl, Susan Bones, chose to become the fourth (out of curiosity) and was taken aback when Justin warned Draco she was one of those purebloods. Hermione shook her head and muttered "boys" just loud enough for Susan to hear. But that was still in the future.

Now he was with his head of house at the teachers table in the Great Hall.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Professor, but I'm trying to mail a couple of letters to friends of mine. They're muggle."

"Yeah, Professor," Justin added. He joined Draco in case the Gryffindor needed help. "The evil pureblood was raised as a muggle."

"An evil muggle, of course," Draco added. He was heartened to hear Professor McGonagall laugh.

"Oh dear. It seems you've had the worst of both worlds." She held out her hand to take the letters. "I see someone helped you with the return address."

"You know about that?" Justin asked.

"All heads of house were reminded to explain the matter to those students with muggle backgrounds." She turned to Draco. "I seem to have been remiss in my duties."

"Do I need to do anything else?" Draco asked.

"That's all you have to do. Your letter will be forwarded to the Ministry and someone there will forward it to the muggle post. Otherwise, the Ministry will have to send someone around to make people forget they received their post by an owl. Isn't that correct, Mister Finch-Fletchley?"

"Yes, Professor." Justin was trying to frown but it wasn't working.

"Thanks," Draco said to Justin as he went to leave. Justin gave him a parting wave and went to his own table.

Draco left the Great Hall and made his way to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him and waved the boy to a waiting chair. She caused the room to darken then removed his patch. She made several passes with her wand, giving a satisfied grunt when she was done.

"I see no problems. I'll examine you again the same time next Saturday."

"Madam Pomfrey. Professor Dumbledore said you were to escort me to his office after you were done."

"And I will."

"He said I was to meet someone. Do you know who?"

Pomfrey smiled. "You're meeting two people. And if I tell you who one of them is, I'll have to tell you the other. And I won't do that."

"It's a secret, then."

"Not exactly a secret. It's more of a surprise. Shall we go?"

Draco followed with uncommon eagerness. While he had plenty of surprises in his life, few had been good. But he trusted Madam Pomfrey. If she said it was a surprise then it must be one of the good ones.

They turned the final corner and came face to face with the gargoyle. Madam Pomfrey said "Sherbet Lemon" and the gargoyle stepped aside. For the second time in two days, Draco entered the headmaster's office. His eagerness faded almost at once.

Five people were waiting. He knew most of them. Hagrid was there, standing behind Dumbledore. Professor Snape stood off to one side. A man Draco did not know sat across the desk from Dumbledore. And behind him was a man Draco had seen once before: Harry Potter's father.

Dumbledore smiled politely. "Minister, may I introduce Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Bartemius Crouch, the Minister for Magic."

Crouch turned to Draco with an avaricious look. "So this is the boy who is causing all the problems."

Draco looked at him, nervously, with the one eye. He felt like he was being examined from head to toe.

Crouch walked over and knelt down on one knee to be on a level with Draco. "What do you know, boy?"

"I've heard stories," Draco admitted.

"And who told you these stories?"

"I heard them . . ." Draco remembered Tonk's warning. She wasn't supposed to tell him. Anything. " . . . The stories were being told behind my back."

"Then you know the reasons behind . . . certain events. That saves us a lot of time." It was a simple statement. Crouch stood up and returned to his seat. "Albus, I trust your judgement in this. You've proven yourself too many times in the last war for anyone to doubt where you stand."

Albus smiled politely. "And I also share your fears, as do we all."

Crouch turned to Potter. "James, you are the one I need to ask. I know your feelings. Can you put them aside?"

Potter glanced at Draco then turned back to Minister Crouch. "I think I can, Minister, but I see his father so clearly in him when I look at the boy."

It was that spark inside of Draco that made him say it. "I was told Father was rather handsome."

"And also when I hear him speak." James Potter's voice was ice.

Draco literally shivered at the reaction he received. For a moment, Draco had an image of being dragged off to . . . somewhere. Someone trying to cowl the boy's spirit by intimidating him, but Draco wouldn't back down. Couldn't back down. And now, in a new and dangerous world, Draco still managed to say the wrong things.

Crouch seemed bemused. "This boy has his father in him, and seems proud of the fact."

Dumbledore agreed. "All boys try to find things to admire in their fathers. And no one will deny that Lucius Malfoy was a handsome man in his day, as well as a formidable wizard. I found much to admire in his abilities. It was his 'judgement' that I questioned."

"You are a consummate politician." For the first time, Crouch smiled. "Albus, you should have taken my office when you had the chance. You have all the information at your fingertips and you're just waiting for people to ask you the questions."

Draco could see Dumbledore's eyes twinkling. "And that is why I chose to stay at Hogwarts, Bartemius. Here, people always listen to the answers I give them."

Crouch slapped the desk with laughter. "Albus, you have me there." With a final sigh, he turned to a folder of papers. "Now to business, or the boy will have graduated before we're done here."

"With all due respects, Minister." It was Professor Snape. "The boy is not fond of Harry Potter nor Harry Potter for him. This arrangement could be very . . . uncomfortable."

Crouch frowned. "I know Dumbledore suggested you for this position but you do have a history of your own. I will not change my mind."

The headmaster interrupted. "But that was when I thought Draco would be in Slytherin. Under the circumstances, I would suggest one of the other Professors, for the same reason."

Crouch looked up in mild surprise. "I must be slipping. I never thought along those lines when you suggested Snape. That does make good sense. And the head of Gryffyndor doesn't have the history that the head of Slytherin does." Crouch turned to Draco. "Congratulations, Mister Malfoy, we have resolved your status. Until further notice, Professor McGonagall is to be your legal guardian." He paused. "Do you understand what I mean, boy?"

Draco stared. "Could you explain, Sir, 'My Legal Guardian'?"

Crouch snorted. "That Professor will be responsible for you. Like your aunt and uncle before you ran away."

Draco flushed with anger as memories suddenly appeared. "You don't know what they were like."

"Yes. I do. I read all about your situation. I want you to understand this, young man. When your parents died, you were placed with your mother's sister as your closest living relative. THAT is why you were sent there. Once you ran away, you became a ward of the crown. Now, you are under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic and, as Minister for Magic, it is my task to see to your welfare. It is my judgement that you should not be returned to your aunt because of the abusive situation. Nor will you return to Grimmauld Place. Other arrangements will be made for you. And you will have a legal guardian who can keep an eye on you and make sure you toe the line." Crouch smiled. "That is why Professor McGonagall is the perfect choice. As head of house, it's her duty anyway."

Crouch stood up and nodded to Potter. Both left the office promptly. Draco noted that Potter's face held an expression of relief.

"That was easy enough," Madam Pomfrey said. "Albus, why didn't you make that suggestion in the first place?"

Dumbledore smiled. "In a sense, I did. Everyone assumed Draco would follow his father into Slytherin. Instead, he followed his mother into Gryffindor."

"It mus' be me eyes," Draco quipped. He was rewarded by a guffaw from Hagrid.

"And a wonderful woman she was." Draco turned when Professor Snape uttered those words.

"Did you know my mother, Professor?"

Snape's stern demeanor softened. "We were in the same year. We even became close friends when we were prefects." He smiled slyly. "Mostly through the influence of your father." He paused to glance at Dumbledore who nodded his head. "Why don't you stop by my office after you are through here? We could talk some more."

"Thank you, Sir. I would like that."

"I'll expect you no later than ten o'clock. If you can't make it, let any teacher know and they'll send me a message."

Professor Snape nodded to Dumbledore and went to leave. As he passed Draco he paused to put his hand on Draco's shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Draco turned to watch the man go, then turned back to the Headmaster. Dumbledore was watching him.

"You didn't seem surprised by what happened, Draco?"

"About the Minister, Sir? I'll admit I was surprised to meet him."

"But not about appointing you a legal guardian?"

"Miss Carmichael, she ran the home that I lived at, she told me this would happen. She felt it better if I knew that I might not be returning." Draco looked at the headmaster curiously. "She wasn't supposed to tell me? Was she?"

"The Minister thought it best that you didn't know."

An anger, cold this time, welled inside Draco. "Is he the one who decided I shouldn't know about my parents? Well, no one bothered to listen to that rule either."

"Curiously, no one seems interested in the rules."

Draco's manner softened at the words. He felt his anger was unnecessary here. The headmaster might be here to help him. In an almost willful act he dismissed his feelings and returned to the original line of conversation.

"If I may ask, Sir. Will I spend all of my holidays here?"

Dumbledore frowned but his eyes still held their twinkle. "No decision has been made for the summer holiday. But if it comes to that, then the answer is yes."

Draco nodded, more to himself as he pondered the news. In one sense, he was in a prison. A nicer one than Saint Brutus would have been, but a cage all the same.

* * *

As Draco left the castle he couldn't help thinking that he was alone again. He had the feeling he would have to get used to it. He had traversed the grounds several times already and knew where he wanted to go. He walked slowly to a spot he had found. It was near some trees which hid him from the school. He could sit on a convenient rock and look out over the lake. If he was going to be alone, he could at least be in a nice place. He decided to sit here until it was time to visit Professor Snape. And as he sat, he mulled over the idea of leaving the school. Of leaving Hogwarts. He remembered about Janice. She only lasted a month. And they were supposed to be alike. If he left now, he would have lasted a month as well.

It was almost noon when Draco heard the footstep. Naturally, they came from his left, his blind side. He turned fully around to see the Potions Professor standing there.

"Wotcha . . . um . . . Hello, Sir." He almost forgot how to speak.

"You are a difficult person to find, Draco Malfoy. Brooding Again?"

"Jus' . . ." Draco stopped himself. He reminded himself about using his foster parent voice. "I was daydreaming, Professor. I'm sorry. I forgot about the time.

Snape's look showed that he knew Draco had lied to him but he was not offended. "It looked like brooding. Your father did enough of it in his time. I know what it looks like."

"You said you knew my father. What was he like?"

"He was a prefect for Slytherin when I first came to Hogwarts." Snape smiled at a memory. "I found him once, my seventh year, with the same look on his face. Your father had come by to visit the school. He asked me a question I've never been able to forget. Nor have I ever had an answer." He added lightly, "I'm not even sure I understand the question. Lucius looked up when he heard me call his name, almost as though he was expecting me, and said, "If you had to choose, would you choose what you know or what you don't know?"

Draco pondered the question. For some reason, it made perfect sense to him. "I'd choose what I didn't know."

"Really?" Snape's tone and look expected an explanation.

"I could have gone to Saint Brutus. I knew what it was like. My other choice was to come here. I decided I'd come before I even knew what here was." Draco's voice had a wistful tone. "Sometimes what you know is so bad you can't imagine anything worse." Draco turned so he could see Snape more easily. "Professor, did my father give you his answer?"

Ignoring the dirt, Snape sat down next to Draco. "No. Not directly. Lily Evans came by to look for him. They went off together. That night, while making our prefect rounds, she showed me the ring Lucius gave her."

Draco smiled as he listened. "And what about my mother?"

"We were in the same year, although in different houses. I mentioned that we became close friends after we were made prefects our fifth year. Patrolling the corridors can be boring work."

Draco was smiling. "What did you talk about?"

Snape grinned at Draco's enthusiasm. "Mostly about school. Lily was an expert at charms, while I preferred defense. Both of us were very good at Potions. As we grew older, she would confide in me. I was the only other student that Lucius would talk to when he visited the school and it was obvious to me by our sixth year that she was clearly in love with him. Am I boring you?"

"NO!" Draco blushed lightly at the outburst and Snape chuckled. "It's just that . . . except for Hagrid, no one's ever said anything nice about my parents. And everyone says Hagrid's, um, simple."

"There are very few friends of your parents who survived the war, Draco. You would have heard few kind words even if you grew up as a wizard. I regret to say this: Your parents were not very popular. On the other hand, I'm not very popular either."

"I don't think I'll ever become popular," Draco moaned.

"Then try for respect. Both your parents were highly skilled in magic. Even their enemies were forced to acknowledge that. You would be hard put to find a better man at potions than myself. People don't like me but they must respect me because of my abilities." He gave Draco a wicked grin. "I have to admit there is no better feeling than watching someone be nice to you because he needs something that only you can provide."

Draco nodded at the thought. It would have been fun to get Potter to ask him about playing on the team.

"Professor?"

"Draco?"

"I tried to do something nice, letting Potter play Quidditch. And . . ." He was unsure of how to finish the question.

Snape gave him a sympathetic smile. "And you're wondering why they won't like you?" The boy nodded. "They won't like you because they're not supposed to. You could save Potter's life and he would sneer at you. His father hated your father and he is honour bound to hate you."

Draco sighed as he leaned forward. He rested his chin on his hands which were propped on his knees. "I just wish I knew more. About my parents. About what happened."

Severus Snape leaned over and tousled the boy's short hair. "You will. I have no objection to talking to you about your parents. The Minister's orders that we tell you nothing have been violated from the very beginning. If you like, we can meet on a regular basis, two or three nights a week." He was smiling when Draco looked at him. "IF you like, we won't always talk about your family. I was thinking that you might also appreciate a private tutor. To guarantee that you remain the top student in all your classes. And private broom lessons. Everyone will be amazed at how quickly you develop." Snape's voice took a devious turn. "I can even see you trying out for Quidditch next year. Maybe even trying out for seeker."

Draco was captivated by the thought. In his mind he already bested Potter for the position. He curled his lip as he said in a droll voice, "I'd let you play, but you aren't good enough." He smiled at Professor Snape. He told him it sounded wonderful. All of it.

The Potions Professor laughed. "Draco, you have your father's face and your mother's eyes, but when you smile . . . I see both of them clearly as though they were still here." He laughed again as Draco blushed. "That blush also belongs to your mother. Her face went just as red as yours did the night she showed me her engagement ring. I asked her how long it took to stop kissing your father." He smiled wistfully at the boy. "She never answered me."

Draco was daydreaming again. About his parents. Their being in love. He was half listening as the Professor told a story about Lucius Malfoy meeting Lily Evans in Hogsmeade. He was dwelling on a thought that sat unspoken in the back of his mind. Everyone hated his parents and called them evil. But that was because his parents were on the side that lost. The losing side is always considered evil.


	12. Halloween

A/N: My thanks to the reviewers who pointed out my spelling errors. One of those I had no excuse for at all as I had a bag of them (half a bag at that point) open in front of me while I was typing that chapter.

Lighthearted69 asked if I hate nitpickers. The answer has to be no. How can I be offended when someone reads my story and their only complaint is that I spelled the Minister's name wrong. If they didn't like my story, they wouldn't even bother to comment much less continue to read the story.

What I don't like is the fact that I will write a chapter, re-read it, read it again, proofread it, do a spell check, run a grammar search, proofread it again, reread it one last time before posting it THEN finding out that I've still made mistakes. C'est La Vie.

I have read through this chapter and did not find any mistakes. If a mistake is discovered, I promise to eat an entire box of Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans. Including Soap.

**Chapter Twelve: Halloween**

Harry Potter had Quidditch practice three times a week. Draco Malfoy had extra lessons three nights a week. And he couldn't complain. Professor Snape promised he would make sure that Draco had a firm knowledge of everything he was learning (and he always told Draco one or two things about his parents.) Draco learned a great many things.

In his first week, Draco learned how the plants he studied in Herbology translated into the ingredients he used in potions. He also learned that his father played Quidditch. He was a chaser. His mother never tried out for the house team although she could handle herself on a broom. His parents did meet at school, although his father was in his fifth year. Some third years in his house were teasing the first year Lily Evans and Lucius walked up to them. He threatened to take house points away even though they objected that he was from their own house. Lucius Malfoy offered to take even more points away if they didn't leave the other students alone. As Lucius helped Lily pick up her books, he told her to always consider him a friend. Professor Snape pointed out that Draco was the end result of that friendship.

And others noticed a change in him. Hermione was the first. She met him in the common room the morning after his first meeting. She was smirking as he came down the staircase.

"Whot?"

"You're smiling. I didn't think that was possible."

"I can smile," he declared as they headed for breakfast.

"Then your detention with Snape went well?"

Draco let out a small laugh. "Don't tell anyone. It wasn't a detention. Snape knew my parents. And he wants to help me become the best student in the school." He gave Hermione a conspiratorial look. "It'll make those sods nervous. The Boy-Who-Lived is also the Boy-Who's-Best."

"He's tutoring you?"

Her unasked question was obvious: Can I come, too? Draco answered it anyway.

"He's not too fond of Gryffindors, you know. But he agreed that you could sit in sometimes, because you are my friend."

"Sometimes?"

"Well . . ." Draco gave her an infectious smile. ". . . He does want ME to be the best." Hermione almost giggled. "At least I'll be sure to get an O in potions."

"It's not only for his class. Last night he was showing me Herbology plants and explaining how to prepare them to be used for potions. And Thursday he's giving me broom lessons, so I can impress Madam Hooch, and others, on Friday."

The question held a hint of suspicion. "He's that fond of you?"

"He was my mum's best friend when they went to school. They were prefects together. He was one of the ushers when she married my father. It's like I have family, Hermione." He gave a wistful smile. "I wish I were in Slytherin. It would have been great."

Hermione watched him touch the eyepatch. "Then I would never have met my best friend."

That Friday, Madam Hooch complemented both Draco and Hermione on how quickly they picked up on the day's lesson. It was Hermione's idea that they stop by and brag about it to Hagrid.

* * *

Draco was writing another letter. It was more honest than the last one. He was telling the truth when he said that things were going better than he expected. Janice would be happy to hear that. With a thin smile he folded the letter and sealed it in the envelope. He would give it to Professor McGonagall when he went down to the Hollowe'en Feast.

And what a Feast it was.

There were live bats flying though the air, soaring easily around the floating pumpkins. While there was plenty of good food on the tables, nutrition was an afterthought, if it was thought of at all, by the gathered students. Sweets of every kind interspersed with cakes and pies and every flavor of ice cream. Draco and Hermione greedily grabbed a little of everything they could. Not even Potter and Longbottom could spoil the party. A surreptitious glance told Draco they weren't even interested in trying.

He was half finished with his first plate when he felt his scar. Not pain. Just a twinge. He turned instinctively toward the teachers' table. Professor Snape was looking at him. As Draco watched, the Professor lifted his glass as though to toast the boy. Draco smiled. That meant the Potions Professor knew what was causing his pain. And because he only felt a twinge, Draco felt sure that Snape would also know a cure.

"What was that?" Hermione asked out of curiosity.

"What?"

"I saw you look up. And Professor Snape was watching you. How did you know he was watching you?"

Draco smiled. He didn't want to tell her about his scar.

"I guess I felt his eyes on me. Beside, I knew he'd be watching for me. And he knew it was only a matter of time before I looked up." He sighed. "Sometimes, Hermione, it isn't magic."

Draco glanced past Hermione to see Potter and Longbottom. They were laughing at some shared jest. That was when he noticed what was different. "Weasley isn't with them."

Hermione smirked. "I know. He's sitting on your left."

Draco slowly turned to see that Weasley was there, talking to Dean Thomas. With all the noise in the hall he never noticed. The red-haired boy did notice him and gave him an expectant look. Draco tried to think of something to say. He eyed the table and thought of something.

"You must have at least twice the amount of food I have. And I've hardly touched mine yet."

"I'm a growing boy," Ron grinned. "Try it. It might work for you, too."

Dean Thomas snorted. "Be careful. You might grow in the wrong direction." He made a movement with his hands to show an ever enlarging stomach.

Weasley laughed, then asked a question. "We couldn't help but notice you've had detention with Snape quite a bit . . ."

Draco knew enough to know that Weasley wasn't there by accident. The boy wanted to ask him about this.

"And you were sent to sit next to me to find out."

Weasley looked insulted. "I wasn't sent."

Dean Thomas interrupted. "He wasn't asked either. He was curious. So was I."

Draco started to sneer. Thomas may have been telling the truth but Weasley was always hanging around with the others.

"And why should I believe you?"

"Because they meant what they said," Hermione said loudly from behind him. She huffed. "Really, Draco, must you always be so paranoid."

Draco whirled around to face Hermione.

"I'm not paranoid."

"You're doing a very good impersonation. Did it ever occur to you that they might just want to know why you spend so much time with the one teacher everyone else doesn't like? It's such a big secret, you told me first off."

"So, Hermione," Dean Thomas asked. "Why does Draco have permanent detention with Snape?"

"He's tutoring Draco to be the next Dark Lord."

"'at's not true." He turned to Thomas. "'e's knew me 'rents."

"His accent does change when he gets excited," Ron Weasley noted.

Dean Thomas smiled. "Cool. I have a cousin who talks the same way." He imitated Draco's accent. "You live near Tony? I'm a Micky."

"East End," Draco said in mild surprise. "Ya know I grew up on the floor."

"I guessed you din't have any Bugs."

Draco and Dean smiled at each other. They both knew that the other two had no idea of what they were saying. Draco smiled. "Hardly ever saw Lady Godiva."

Dean nodded. "Mum raised me. I learned to read and write early on."

"Same wit' me. I had quite a rep as a typewriter."

Weasley interrupted. "You two aren't making any sense."

Dean and Draco said in unison, "Eighteen Pence," then fell back laughing.

Hermione leaned forward. "Ron, they're cockney. It's a rhyming slang."

"Then what are they saying?"

Draco heard Hermione sigh. "I have no idea. Draco?"

Draco grinned. For some reason he was actually enjoying himself. "Thomas asked me if I lived near Tony. That's Leicester Square." Weasley looked confused. "Tony Blair, Leicester Square."

Dean nodded. "And I told him I was a Micky. My family's from Liverpool. Micky Mouse rhymes with scouse." Ron looked confused.

"Then Bugs," Hermione asked, "would be Bugs Bunny which rhymes with . . ."

"Bread and Honey," Draco answered.

Hermione smiled when she looked at him. "Then Lady Godiva is a fiver."

"She is smart," Dean noted. "She knew we were talking about money."

Hermione's grin grew larger. "And on the floor meant you grew up poor."

"Poor?" Weasley asked. "How can you be poor? The Malfoys had tons of money."

"Did they?" Hermione asked. Everyone was now looking at Ron.

"Yeah. The Malfoys were one of the richest families. My dad said they'd rub that fact in every chance they got. That and the fact that they're all purebloods."

"Rich?" Draco muttered more to himself. He thought briefly about what Ron had said. Then he spoke his thought. "You may be right, um, Ron, but the key word is 'were'. When I went to the family vault, I took all of the money that was left. Thirty Galleons."

"Cor. You're poorer than us. I mean, we don't have much but. Dad works . . ."

A sharp pang suddenly hit Draco. "At least you've got a dad." Draco felt tears begin to well up in his eye. He quickly fled the hall, not caring who was watching him.

He kept running. It didn't matter where. Draco only wanted to get away. He was crying again and he didn't know why.

At one point he realized he had run around in a circle. He didn't know where he was but he knew he had been by there at least once before. In what would prove to be a fateful decision, Draco decided running wasn't the answer. Nor was crying. He shuffled over to a suit of armor and seated himself behind it. In the shadowy darkness he was almost impossible to spot but he still had a clear view of anyone walking down the hallway. Not that he cared. He wouldn't be watching for anybody. He just didn't want to be seen. And he didn't want to bother finding another place to hide.

His pose was as expected. Legs drawn up with his hands holding them together. Chin resting on his knees. And a look of melancholy that would have earned him a sigh from any adult who saw him. He sat there lost in his thoughts about parents he never remembered.

The twinge. He felt a twinge in his scar. Draco was suddenly alert. Perhaps Professor Snape had decided to come looking for him. He heard the sounds of feet coming hurriedly down the corridor and started to move, but stopped when the twinge occurred again, but slightly painful. As he rubbed his scar, Draco saw whom it was walking past. Not Snape but the professor who always wore a turban on his head. Quirrell. He taught Defense to the upper years.

Once the footsteps had faded, Draco slipped out of his hiding place. He wiped his eye and adjusted his robes. Carefully he walked to the end of the corridor and looked down the hallway. If nothing else, he knew where he was. The hallway he was looking down led to the third floor corridor that was forbidden to students. The other way led to the classrooms. Draco smiled to himself. All he had to do was walk back the way he came, turn right after he passed the girls bathroom and he would be heading straight for the stairwells to take him back to the Great Hall.

He began his walk back. He would make whatever apologies he needed to. A doleful look and a low voice would work well. It might even make Weasley feel guilty, like it was his fault. Draco laughed at the idea and turned the corner. And as he did the stench hit him.

Then there was the growl. Draco saw walking toward him the ugliest, filthiest creature he had ever seen. A huge body on thick stumpy legs, and too long arms dragging a massive wooden club. As though trying to make the scene look funny, on top of this body sat a human-like head smaller than Draco's. In Draco's opinion, the effort at humor didn't work.

The creature growled. It smashed its club into one of the suits of armor that seemed to line all the hallways. The helmet missed Draco's head by inches. The troll stopped. It peered at Draco. It growled again and began to walk toward him. During all of this, Draco did nothing. He couldn't do anything.

Draco was literally frozen to the spot. The monster was faster. Running would be useless. If he went into one of the rooms, it would become a trap. And because he couldn't think of what to do, he did nothing.

The thing came closer. The smell became stronger as well. It stopped ten feet from him, yelled its growl and raised the club to bring it down on him.

Draco moved. As the club came down, he jumped forward and dove between the stumpy legs. He raised himself and quickly began to run before the creature could catch him. As he ran, he looked back. The monster hadn't turned around to chase him. It looked . . . confused.

"Of course," Draco said with a laugh as he remembered the book Hermione showed him. "It's a troll." Trolls were known for being exceptionally strong and just as stupid. On the other hand, Draco thought, shouting out loud when a troll is looking for you is not very bright either. Then again, he was close to the stairwell and had a good head start. He raced down the hallway, not really seeing the windows on his left. He was watching carefully for the next corridor. He needed to make that right turn as quickly as possible.

He almost missed it anyway. Without the use of two eyes, he had no way to judge how far away he was. As a result, he was almost past it before he turned. He did have a chance to look back. The troll was gaining but he still had enough of a lead. He ran with all his might the last thirty meters to the stairwell. And safety.

He was halfway there when he heard the sound.

The staircases were changing. Especially the one directly in front of him. Suddenly, there was an empty space until the new staircase came. Draco inched toward the edge. He had no choice. He had to wait.

The troll growled to let him know that waiting was no longer an option. Draco turned around. It was already halfway down the hallway and it didn't look pleased. Draco could hear voices in the air but couldn't make any sense out of them because of the noise the troll was making. But it gave him hope. Help was coming. Hopefully, it was coming very soon.

Draco braced himself. He didn't dare look back. Trolls were stupid. The trick worked once. It might work again. The troll raised his club. Draco ran forward and jumped between its legs. The troll moved his feet to block him. But Draco made it. Sort of.

The troll had ended up kicking Draco instead of stopping him. The boy was now sliding down the hallway, rolling over and over, much faster than he could have run. He reached the end of the hallway, slowing down only slightly, and smashed into the stone wall. He rolled onto his back with a groan. It was a good thing he slid along the floor. Three feet above where he was lying, the windows began their journey all the way to the high ceiling.

Two things occurred almost at the same time. The troll's scream attracted his attention and the floor suddenly became cold. Draco turned his head. He could see the troll racing toward him. And he could see the floor. It had turned to ice. Draco watched in an almost detached manner as the troll hit the icy patch and suddenly began to slide. It slid toward him and began to fall forward.

The troll pitched forward straight into the window and straight through it. Its surprised grunts could be heard as it fell to the ground below. It was lucky for Draco that most of the glass followed the creature because he never thought to cover his face. As pieces of glass fell around him, all he could think of was how pretty the colours were when the light reflected off of them. When the two identical people walked up and said something to him, Draco had to smile. The words they said almost sounded like something.

It was a dream, Draco thought. Suddenly Professor McGonagall was there, as well as Professor Snape and the man with the turban. They were all making noises. The funny sounds made Draco giggle. Then they stopped so he stopped. Suddenly he was floating in the air. McGonagall was pointing a stick at him. And Professor Snape, he was such a nice man, was trying to get him to drink something. Draco found all of this very interesting. On a whim he opened his mouth and let Snape pour the something into his mouth. He swallowed instinctively and began giggling again. He was now being moved. But he wasn't moving. The whole world was being moved around him. Maybe if I close my eyes, Draco thought as the sleeping potion took effect.

* * *

Draco awoke . He yawned, then rolled over into a comfortable position. A book smacked his rump.

"Go away, Hermione."

"How did you know it was me?"

"You're the only one who would use a book. And you're not supposed to be in the boy's dorm."

Hermione smirked as she told him. "I'm not in the boy's dorm."

Draco opened his eye. Everything was white. "I'm in the infirmary."

"I told Madam Pomfrey I'd watch to see if you woke up."

Draco rolled onto his back and looked up at Hermione. "The troll?"

"It was supposed to be in the dungeon."

"Probably got lost," Draco muttered.

Hermione became serious. And her voice became a hurried whisper."I wanted to warn you. The Weasley Twins had to stretch the truth a bit when they went to find you." She paused as Madam Pomfrey could be heard entering the room.

Draco nodded. "I have no idea what happened, Hermione. All I remember is floating through the air as Snape gave me a really nice potion to drink." Draco smiled. He wouldn't remember anything until at least a week after he learned what it was he should remember.

Madam Pomfrey was standing there. "That should be Professor Snape, young man. You should always remember that."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

The wand was being waved over Draco's head. He was told to turn to his right. Hermione was mouthing to him, "don't tell."

Madam Pomfrey looked at him with a stone face as she continued her examination. In a low voice she said, "You should know, Mister Malfoy. I am very curious as to what happened to you. Everyone involved is lying through their teeth and they don't want you to tell the truth."

Draco smiled. "I won't tell the truth about anything until I know what the lies are."

Pomfrey nodded. "Smart boy. Now, while you're here . . ." She went to remove his eyepatch. "Miss Granger, stand where you are. It's about to get dark."

The room gradually darkened. As a result, everyone became quiet. Madam Pomfrey put a hand over Draco's right eye.

"A light," Draco said with sudden surprise. "I see a light."

"What color is it?" Pomfrey asked.

"It looks white . . . wait, it's blue . . . no, it changed to green . . . now it's orange."

"Draco, let me know when it's too much for you."

The darkness gradually lifted. It had reached the point where Draco could start to make out shadows when he began to wince. In seconds, the eyepatch was back in place. Madam Pomfrey took her hand away and Draco was in a normally lit room. Pomfrey was smiling at him.

"I'd say not much longer. We'll see you again next weekend, after the Quidditch match."

Draco was too happy to care how much longer. He had actually seen something out of his left eye. For the first time he honestly believed he would see normally again.

"But before you leave," Madam Pomfrey pushed the eager boy back onto the bed. "I want to know the truth. Even if it goes no further than here." Without turning her head, she added, "you can stop coaching him, Miss Granger. I'm sure you would like to know the true story as well."

Draco glanced at Hermione. She seemed unduly nervous. She would later tell him the proper word was conflicted. "But you'll have to tell Professor McGonagall what he says, I mean, If Draco doesn't remember correctly, that is, if . . ."

Draco looked up at Madam Pomfrey, she had that light smile on her lips that she always has before she reveals that she knows something you don't. She had that smile every time that she proved to Draco she already knew what happened. She knows something that Hermione doesn't know, Draco thought. But his thoughts were confused. She was obviously smiling at him.

"Why, Miss Granger, would I have to tell your head of house?"

"Because she's Draco's legal guardian," Hermione blurted out. As the healer turned, she added meekly, "Harry Potter told everyone about it. He heard his Dad telling his Mum."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "That boy's hearing is truly amazing. To be able to listen in on a conversation taking place in Godric Hollow while he's at Hogwarts." She turned back to Draco and winked, "As I am his legal guardian, I don't have to tell anyone anything. And when you see Potter, tell him to get his facts straight." She turned again to Hermione. "On that note, Miss Granger, you can go. I'm sure Draco will answer all of your questions later."

Hermione nodded in embarrassment. And this caused Draco to laugh. He called out as she left, "I won't remember anything 'til next week anyway."

Once they were alone, Madam Pomfrey sat down. "Now, what happened."

Draco was stubborn. "First tell me why you wanted Hermione to think YOU were my legal guardian."

"Fair enough. Because at the beginning of this week, the Minister for Magic agreed to make that change. It seems I'll be more agreeable to telling him everything he wants to know about you. Professor McGonagall kept refusing him and talking about your rights."

Draco was surprised. And dismayed. He remembered the anger he felt toward the Minister that day they met. "You're going to tell him everything I tell you?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Of course. And I already told him all about the troll. I didn't want to keep him waiting so I assured him that you confirmed everything the Weasley twins said."

"Um, yeah," Draco said in a confused tone.

"Now. Tell me what really happened while it's still fresh in your mind."

Draco's confusion cleared instantly. "You lied to the Minister."

"He likes it better that way. Tell him a lie he likes as long as the truth is not a threat. He doesn't need to know about the troll, but I do. I'm in the position of being not only a nurse and a doctor for you but a mother and father as well. I need to know as much about you so that I can help you in the best way. As your doctor I know all about you, physically." In a stern but calm voice she added, "Talk."

Draco told her everything he could remember about the troll. She told him the Weasleys could tell him what really happened. Then he told her about his extra lessons with Snape and the things the man was telling him about his parents. About him letting 'a Gryffindor' tag along.

As it came time for dinner, Madam Pomfrey let Draco get up and get dressed. She asked him one final question before he left.

"Draco, what's your favorite color?"

"Black. It hides the dirt better."


	13. Quidditch

A/N: Working a lot. Too tired to comment. But here's a long chapter to make up for it.

**Chapter 13: Quidditch**

The Weasleys had told their story already, but everyone wanted to hear Draco tell it. He ran a hand over his blond hair (now almost an inch long), gently rubbing the earring with his palm. He sat back on the couch and stared at the fire.

"But Fred and George have told all of you a hundred times."

It was Oliver Wood who spoke up. He was the captain of the Quidditch team. The twins were the beaters, although Draco had no idea what a beater was. He had some snide thoughts but always kept them to himself. The tall boy was standing by the edge of the couch with at least a score of others scattered around to listen in.

"We know what the twins said. That's why we wanted to know what really happened."

"Well," Draco drawled. I like the way that sounded, he thought, I should do that more often. "I left the party early. Too much candy and not enough food, you know. I had to leave rather quickly." He knew they didn't believe him. Enough people had seen him crying as he left. "In my embarrassment, I didn't want to return. Imagine having to explain something like that. And I had all this nervous energy. I needed to walk it off. I had finally decided to head back after all when I ran into Fred and George."

Draco made a grand gesture with his hand. "Imagine my surprise to find out that a troll was loose in the castle. I thanked them for coming to find me and quickly agreed with them that we should head back to Gryffindor at once." Everyone laughed at the absurd statement. They already knew the twins weren't looking for him. "Alas, had I returned to the Great Hall I would have missed out on the greatest adventure of my life."

"We're getting close to the truth," One of the fourth years said.

"As close as you'll ever get," Hermione muttered from her spot next to Draco.

Draco ignored her. "The rest is fairly simple," He said as he shrugged his shoulders. We spotted the troll just as the staircases began to change. And the troll spotted us. It started toward us but we had one clear advantage. Trolls are stupid.

"Fred and George were discussing what to do when George looked up at the troll. I heard him say, 'we don't have enough time.' I judged the troll to be only twelve meters from us (it smelled terrible, by the way) and remembered what Hermione had told me about them. Did I mention that they're stupid?"

Hermione gave a condescending "Hrmph" and Draco continued. He smiled to show he was enjoying himself.

"I ran up to the troll and stopped when I was just within reach of his club. I waited until he raised it to strike at me . . . and ran forward and jumped between his legs. Then I leaped to my feet and started running." He paused for effect. "But that idiot troll ignored the fact that I disappeared and kept heading toward the Weasleys. So I grabbed a pike from one of the smashed suits of armor, ran back and stabbed the brute in the arse." Draco paused again. "He turned around and kicked me and I landed on the floor just below the window. Actually, I landed on the wall just below the window. I assume I landed on the floor, afterward."

Draco shrugged. "And that's it. I made one daring move and spent the weekend in the infirmary because of it."

A black girl, Angelina, nodded. "Then you really did save their lives."

"I was thinking more about saving me own life. Din't plan . . . I didn't plan on getting hurt."

Draco was full of himself. He was the center of attention and people were smiling. And when they laughed, they were laughing with him. Not at him. I could get used to this, he thought.

He told the story upon request three times the next day. One time was for a group of Hufflepuffs. Ernie MacMillan, who was before Draco at the sorting, even commented that he was surprised. "You've been nothing like what we were told." And the boy shook his hand in thanks for stopping to tell them the story.

Justin followed Draco after the small group dispersed. Except for the occasional class, the two had rarely had a chance to get together.

"You going to Snape again? That special tutoring Granger told us about?"

"Not today. I always go to see him on Thursday, but there's that match this weekend"

"Is he really teaching you the dark arts?"

"Yeah. And the next time we get together he's going to show me what all those evil people looked like." Draco gave an impish grin. He whispered to make sure he wasn't overheard. "He told me he found my parent's old photo album."

Justin smirked. "Draco Malfoy, Troll Hunter AND Teacher's Pet, all in one go."

"HEY," Draco yelled indignantly as Justin went to walk off. When Justin paused and looked back, Draco spontaneously asked, "I was going to see Hagrid before dinner starts but Hermione can't make it. Would you like to come?"

Justin's eyes lit up at the idea. "The giant? Sure. Is he safe? I've heard stories. And I hear he's on the simple side. What's he like?"

"Simply great," Draco told him.

* * *

"Ye can't stay away, can ye," Hagrid said cheerfully as he ushered the two students inside. "An' where's Hermione?"

"In the library," Draco admitted. "She's looking for something. She wanted me to help but I begged off."

Hagrid nodded. "Well, I'm glad ye'd rather waste yer time wit' me than lookin' up stuff ye don't have to."

Draco smiled in response to the Giant's grin. He knew Hagrid appreciated his friendship. "And I brought Justin along as her replacement."

Justin laughed. "I'm just happy to be here. I never even knew about magic till this summer and now I'm having tea with a giant." Justin's smile faded. "And I'm missing potions. I clean forgot. Snape will kill me."

"That," Draco said in a haughty voice, "should be Professor Snape." Even Hagrid laughed. "Don't worry, Justin. I'll talk to him tonight at dinner. After all, I am the teacher's pet."

Hagrid set out the cups and poured tea. After that, Draco had to repeat his story one more time. When he was done, Hagrid asked him what really happened.

"I guess ye'll be sneakin out to the pitch tonight?" Hagrid asked.

"For broomstick lessons? Not this week." Draco's voice showed his disappointment. "Professor Snape's been teaching me a few tricks so I can surprise everyone. I might even know something Potter doesn't know."

"Don't count on it," Hagrid warned him. "James Potter had a chance to join a professional club. He knows Quidditch inside and out, and he probably taught his son most of it. An' Harry's been trainin' wit' the team. I'd wager if ye were to start showin' off, he'd just do somthin' else to top you."

"I wish we had flying lessons together. I'd love to see what Harry Potter would do." He looked at Draco's frown. "Did I say something wrong?"

Hagrid put a large hand on Draco's small shoulder. "Draco an' Harry ain't friends. They don' fight or anythin' but I think that's 'cause they know they'll get caught."

Draco touched his eyepatch. "I won't fight him until I know I can win." He flashed a forced grin at Justin. "Where's the fun in losing?"

Justin was still nervous from what Draco could see.

"Justin, I'm sorry for the way I acted. If I didn't . . . dislike him so much, I'd probably want to see how well he flies, too." When Justin managed a smile, Draco added, "If you want, I'll goad him tomorrow and tell you what he does."

"That would be smashing," Justin said with genuine enthusiasm. "I'll bet it'll be some Quidditch move he learned." He added in a softer voice. "You don't have too. We'll all see him Sunday at the match." A hesitant tone. "You are going?"

"Have too. I promised Hermione. Not that I'll enjoy it much with Potter playing. Crisp it, I don' even know how the game's played."

"WHAT?" Hagrid bellowed. "YE DON' KNOW HOW TA PLAY QUIDDITCH?"

Draco and Justin both ended up being late for dinner. Hagrid explained everything he knew. Justin knew a fair bit but it was nothing compared to the detail that the giant went into. How the chasers tried to score with the quaffle. How the Keeper guarded the goals. Draco found out what a beater did. And he also found out what the seeker did. Hagrid even told them about a match where every single foul possible was committed. And their enthusiasm matched his by the time they left. Draco didn't even care anymore that Potter was playing, and he even had an invitation to join the Hufflepuffs if his own house mates were too much for him.

* * *

Draco went to his flying lessons the next day. Potter wasn't there. He was excused from class because of the impending match. Draco could show off all he wanted and it wouldn't matter. Or it might. They were supposed to practice flying in circles. While he was near Longbottom he did a quick flip on his broom, sliding down one side and swinging around until he was back in his original position. He then smiled cheekily and asked his housemate, "Do you think I should try out for the team next year?"

"They could use an equipment boy," Longbottom sneered in return.

Draco gave a snide laugh and turned his broom away. Goading was fun. And when his eye healed he would be ready to show the other boy a few of the tricks he was learning.

* * *

Quidditch.

Gryffindor played Hufflepuff.

Draco knew what would happen. A couple of times he made it a point to mention his plans to try out next year, when Longbottom was in earshot. The second time he added a comment about Potter had better prove himself if he wanted to keep playing. In both cases, he was moving away too quickly for Longbottom to do anything.

"You do know about Quidditch," Hermione asked, ready to explain everything she read.

Draco looked over. Ron Weasley had sat down next to her.

"Hagrid explained everything," Draco told her. "He made me a believer."

Just loud enough, Longbottom was saying, "He gets one thing right and he thinks he can outfly Potter. If he flew against himself, he'd still lose."

"Ignore him," Hermione whispered, when Draco turned to look at the other boy's back.

Draco turned back, leaned forward and looked at Ron. "Do you think it will be a good match?"

"Hope so," Ron said. "Neither of you have seen a match before? You're going to love it. It's the best."

"Ron's been explaining the rules to me," Hermione explained.

"Are you doing his homework, yet?"

Hermione's look told Draco to stop smiling. "I'm helping him. At least Ron shows a willingness to learn. And he's not afraid to ask for help."

Draco nodded. After what happened between him and the twins, it was no longer taboo for another Gryffindor to be seen with him. Ron felt he should make an effort, because of his brothers, and started by talking to Hermione while Draco was still in the infirmary. He asked a simple question about the potions homework and Hermione lectured him. When she was done, Ron realized she had given him all the answers and he didn't have to study. Since then, he'd asked her for help at least twice more. Draco almost laughed out loud when McGonagall complimented Ron on an insightful essay.

They heard a commotion and looked up. The teams were flying out onto the pitch. Longbottom turned around and called out, "Malfoy. Watch Harry and you might finally learn something. Like how to fly."

Draco gave a scowl and turned away. He now had his excuse for when he decided to leave. He promised Justin he'd join the Hufflepuffs, and then try to get Potter's attention. Hermione was frowning.

"I know what you're thinking."

"I'm not letting him get to me."

"HA. You goaded him all day yesterday. You want him to say things."

"And why would I do that," Draco asked defensively.

Hermione smirked. "Justin Finch-Fletchley told me I was welcome to come along." She ignored Draco's protests. "It was a stupid plan. Neville Longbottom would have said something anyway. You could have said what you were planning and it wouldn't have made any difference."

"She's right," Ron added.

Draco looked Ron in the eye. "Agree with me and I'll do your potions homework for you."

"It was a good plan," Ron said. "Too bad you gave it away, Hermione."

"Boys!" Hermione muttered as both of them laughed.

Draco consoled Hermione briefly. She asked him if he was leaving.

"In a while. I don't want to miss the very start."

The whistle blew, and the match began. Draco watched as Potter flew to a high position above the pitch. He noted that the Hufflepuff seeker had done the same. A high position was a better place to watch for the snitch. It also kept you out of the way of the other players.

Lee Jordan, a third year Gryffindor, was calling the game. Draco didn't pay him much attention but concentrated on what the chasers were doing. When he saw one dodge a bludger, he turned his attention to the Weasley twins. He saw them flying toward the hard balls and hitting them expertly. While they rarely hit a player, it seemed one of the Hufflepuffs always had to move quickly in a direction they didn't want to go.

Satisfied that he wouldn't miss much, Draco made his departure. Ron halfheartedly asked him to stay but he said he'd rather watch Potter from a better vantage point. He left the stands and began his climb down.

He was almost to the second turn on the stairs when he heard the noise of the crowd. It wasn't a quick score because the noise was continuous. He turned around and decided to head back. It must be something unexpected. Perhaps a fight. Or someone (POTTER?!) falling off his broom.

Draco hadn't taken his first step when he heard someone behind him call his name. The voice was familiar but he couldn't place it. He started to turn, whoever it was called from his blind side. He felt the hands grab him and pull him off balance. Without seeing his assailant he fell backward over the rail. He did not remember hitting the ground.

* * *

Draco awoke in a familiar bed. He knew at once he was in the infirmary. Again. I'm here more than in Gryffindor, he mused. Rather than try to get up, his entire body felt so tired that he gave no thought except to going back to sleep. And he would have, except for that voice.

"I'm fine, Uncle Sirius."

It was Harry Potter. In the Infirmary? All desire for sleep fled him. He lay still, unmoving, eyes shut and ears open.

"YOU WERE WARNED THIS MIGHT HAPPEN." Professor Black managed to convey the fact that he was yelling while still keeping his voice low. In a softer tone, he continued.

"Harry, I know you've heard stories about me and your dad. I even told you a few of those stories." Draco heard Potter give a light snort. "But these are different times."

"I was caught unprepared," Potter admitted.

"And I'd forgive you . . . if this incident didn't come so soon after your little hunting expedition with Neville."

"I told you. We were looking for Malfoy. To warn him."

"HARRY."

That was said loudly. Loud enough to wake someone, Draco thought. He kept his body relaxed and his breathing even. In the silence that followed, he heard footsteps. And the sound of a screen being moved slightly. They screened me off? came the thought. The screen was moved back and the footsteps retreated to Potter's bed.

"Harry," Professor Black hissed. "You must remember that you and Neville are both in constant danger. And gallivanting after a troll is a reckless act regardless of how good an excuse you have. The troll could have been let in for an ulterior purpose. Tell me. What do you think could have happened if that incident was something more than Professor Quirrell misjudging how long the creature would be asleep? And even then, what do you think might have happened if you did encounter it while roaming the halls. Ask the boy in the bed over there. If he ever wakes up again. He spent a good many days in the infirmary because that troll kicked him."

"I already promised . . ."

". . . That it won't happen again. I know, Harry. I want to remind you. Hogwarts is the safest place for you to be, but that doesn't mean you're safe from everything. How many times has 'he' been in here. And his attacker didn't even bother to use magic.

"Yes, Sir." Potter's tone was sullen. The silence seemed to stretch on endlessly when Potter asked, "Do you know . . ."

"Of course, I know," came Black's surly retort. "Hermione Granger not only saw Snape mouthing the hex, she even had Neville and Ron Weasley look though those muggle lenses of hers, those binoculars she called them. And if they hadn't run across Malfoy, they might very well have stopped him in time. You owe a great deal of thanks to Angelina Johnson for catching you."

Another pause. Then Potter asked another question.

"Was Malfoy a part of this?"

"If he was, he wasn't a willing participant. Under the circumstances, he was an excellent distraction. And he is in the useful position that he would not be missed."

"Snape tried to kill him?"

"Why not? He serves a cruel master. One who would heap honours on the person who rid him of that brat. And your death would have solved half of 'his' problem."

Footsteps. Draco recognized them. Madam Pomfrey. She was walking toward the beds.

"Mister Potter, you may get dressed."

Black chuckled. "I told you he wasn't hexed. Only the broom."

"And Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to be certain that was the case. He is now satisfied."

Draco let himself relax again now that the conversation was over. By the time Madam Pomfrey came to check on him, he had already fallen back to sleep.

* * *

When Draco woke again it was as though from a long rest. He opened his eyes to see everything a blurry white. He did not have to wait to focus to know he was still in the infirmary. He blinked a couple of times and everything became clear. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. And stopped.

His eyes. Both of them. The patch was gone. He would have hated the comparison but the look on his face was the very same one that a young nearsighted Harry Potter had when he put on his new pair of glasses and the world came into focus for the very first time.

Everything had depth. He couldn't stop looking around. He spotted Madam Pomfrey and smiled. "Mornin' Mum. Is it time for school?"

Madam Pomfrey gave him a thin smile and a soft grunt. "You had the remarkable fortune to wake up on a Saturday."

Draco paused. She said 'a Saturday'. That meant . . .

"How long?" he asked.

"Two weeks. You broke almost every bone in your body. You should know how lucky you are. You landed on your feet. Had you landed any other way, I doubt we would be having this conversation."

"My feet?"

"You literally broke every bone in both legs. Then you fell forward with enough force to break a few ribs, one arm and that cute little nose of yours. I won't bother telling you about the other injuries." She walked over to him. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Not really. I was going to sit with Justin. And I remember someone calling my name."

Madam Pomfrey sat down, watching Draco carefully. "Ron Weasley found you. At least he claims he did. He wasn't too clear on why he went to look for you."

He suddenly remembered the conversation he overheard. He decided it would be better not to mention it at all. "Probably bored with the match."

"I doubt it. He ran to look for you shortly after Harry Potter began having trouble with his broom. As a result, he missed seeing Potter's fall."

"I remember now. I was walking down the stair and I heard some noise. I started to go back but someone called me. That's all I know."

Pomfrey gave her thin smile. "Do you remember if it was Weasley?"

"It couldn't have been. I was already heading back and the voice came from behind me. From further down."

The smile faded to a grim frown. "He didn't seem the type but I had to be sure."

"The type?" This time Draco frowned.

"The person who threw you over the railing grabbed you with enough force that he tore your robes. From behind. Draco, do you know anyone who would do that?"

Draco shook his head. It couldn't be any of the Gryffindors. Crabbe and Goyle came to mind but he dismissed them. After all those weeks of detention with Professor Snape, both avoided even looking at him. His impression of both boys was that they were not very bright.

"It couldn't have been someone I know. I would have recognized the voice. Plenty of people have sneered at me in the past, but after Halloween their attitudes changed, for the most part."

Madam Pomfrey echoed Draco's thoughts. "Then whoever did it is keeping his opinion of you a secret."

Draco nodded. After a pause, he asked his own question. "You said Potter fell off his broom?" Had the discussion of his own fall ended differently, he would have had a smile on his face.

"You'll hear about it soon enough. While you were being attacked, someone was attacking Potter. His broom was hexed. He held on for quite a while but he eventually lost his grip. He was very high up at the time."

Despite his feelings for the other boy, Draco felt a pang in his heart. And he remembered he wasn't supposed to know about it. "Is he . . ." He looked down, as though he couldn't finish the question.

"His teammates were prepared," Pomfrey told him. "They caught him almost at once and flew him to the ground. And it was a near thing. One of the chasers almost lost her balance as well." She sighed. "Your house lost, of course."

Draco was given a light meal. After he was finished, he was told to rest. As he was forced to lie back down, he asked about the Minister.

"How much are you going to tell him?"

"Everything," was the reply. "He won't like it but something like this is important." She started to walk away, but stopped. "You will rest until it is time for lunch. After that, you can have visitors." Seeing his next question in his eyes, she added, "you'll stay here tonight. I'll get you out of here in time for breakfast."

Draco sighed. He hated having to stay in bed. He had slept for three weeks and now he was wide awake. On the other hand, he did have something to think about. He remembered the voice that called his name. The last time he heard it, it said, "Someone's coming. "

* * *

Draco's first visitor after lunch was a welcome one. Professor Snape. The smile and the relief that showed on his face was enough to heighten Draco's spirits.

"Professor, I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused."

Snape sat down in the chair next to the bed. He leaned over and caressed Draco's hand. "As long as everything ends well. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you. I was distracted."

Draco frowned at the strange remark. He had to ask. "Professor, how could you have helped me?"

"I could have watched you more closely. But . . ." The professor paused. "You wouldn't know. I never had the chance to tell you." He ran a finger across the left side of Draco's forehead.

"My scar?"

Snape nodded. Draco remembered the Hallowe'en party. When he felt the scar tingle. He forgot all about it after the incident with the troll. And they had not had their regular meetings that week because of Draco's injuries and also the upcoming match.

Snape pulled out his wand and waved it. "A silencing spell. Just in case. I don't want anyone to overhear. Even accidentally."

Draco nodded solemnly at the serious tone.

"Did you know, Draco, that some wizards are able to read minds? I happen to be one of them." His eyes peered at the boy. Draco felt the tingling sensation in his scar. "Do you feel that?" he was asked.

"Are you reading my mind?"

"I'm only probing at your thoughts. At this stage all I can tell is how you are feeling. You have an interesting mixture of anxiety and elation. If I tried to read your actual thoughts, the sensation would be distinctly painful." Snape squeezed the hand he was still holding. "At the sorting feast, I tried to do that. I was worried about you. What had happened to you on the train was terrible. But I caused you more harm than good." He paused to let Draco digest what he was saying. "I'm the reason you passed out. I think you should know that."

Draco tried to sound positive. He would keep his own questions for later. "But you found out why. And you told me. That makes it all a Tin Bath."

Severus Snape gave out a genuine laugh. "You amaze me, Draco. I confess to causing you great pain, and you almost congratulate me for it."

Draco blushed. "I trust you, Professor. Everything you've done has been to help me. And you've never demanded anything of me." He added a hunch he had. "And you know how to cure me."

"Smart boy," Snape said in a cheerful tone. "But, no. Not a cure. A protection. I intend to add a new course of study when our nighttime lessons begin again. I'm going to teach you how to shield your mind. I won't try to read your thoughts again for any reason, but I did tell you that there are other wizards . . . "

Draco nodded. He did not have to worry about anyone trying to read his mind. The scar would cause him so much pain he would pass out before a single thought could escape his head. But he did have to worry about the pain.

"I'll study hard and I'll learn fast," Draco promised with an eager smile. He added slowly, "Sir?"

"Draco?"

"You said you could have helped me. How? Because of my scar?"

Snape nodded. "Imagine, Draco, that everyone's brain is a shining light. When I look for you with my mind, your scar is a beacon. I can find you in a crowd quite easily. THAT is another reason I want to teach you how to build a shield. If I can find you, so can others. I could have kept track of you. I would have known instantly that something had happened."

Draco nodded. It was time to ask his question. "You said you were distracted. By Potter?"

"You've heard about that?"

"Madam Pomfrey told me that he fell off his broom. Someone hexed it."

"Someone did. I have my suspicions, but I don't know for sure. I was distracted from helping you, Draco, because I was too busy chanting the countercurse. I couldn't block the hex completely but I did buy enough time for Potter's teammates to come to his aid." He gave Draco a rueful smile. "I know some students in your house are blaming me for what happened. Potter hexed my favorite student's broom to make you fall, and then his broom is hexed to make him fall. I don't like Potter, Draco, but I would rather find an excuse to expel him than find a chance to kill him."

Draco sighed. "And they tried to kill me as well." Snape's hand went stiff. Draco looked up. "It was someone else. Wasn't it?"

"Most likely. Potter's attacker was a highly skilled wizard who knew what he was about. Your attacker did not use any magic at all. I would guess that it was a student, probably from my own house."

"Do you know who?"

"I have eight possible suspects, four of them from Slytherin, but they all appear to have solid excuses. I will be keeping an eye on them as best I can . . . but that brings me to the main reason I'm here." Snape waved his wand to cancel the silencing spell. He called out loudly. Draco watched from his bed as Crabbe and Goyle walked in.

Snape let go of Draco's hand as he stood up. "Do you remember these two boys?"

"I do," Draco snarled.

"They have spent the last twelve weeks with me learning the error of their ways. And they asked me for the chance to say something to you." Snape gave a glaring look at the two Slytherins.

Goyle stepped forward. "I . . . I wanted . . . to say I'm sorry. We wanted to have a little fun but we got carried away. I mean . . . We didn't mean to really hurt you." He held out his hand nervously. "Please forgive me."

Draco's look was one of amazement. He had never doubted either boy's lack of intelligence, but it was obvious this boy believed what he was saying. Goyle truly felt he had engaged in a childish prank which went seriously wrong. He glanced at Professor Snape, then back to Goyle. And he smiled as he took the boy's hand.

"There was no permanent harm done," he said cheerfully. "And it was an honest apology."

Crabbe stepped forward, his hand out as well. "I'm sorry, too. Really. I should have known better." He smiled in relief when Draco shook his hand as well. "I'm Vincent."

"And I'm Greg," the other boy added. "Does that mean we're friends now?"

Good God, No, Draco thought.

"I suppose you are," Snape said in a sarcastic tone that was wasted on all but one boy. Draco was trying to swallow, but he couldn't. Snape ignored his grunt. Instead he stepped behind the two Slytherins and put a fatherly hand on each shoulder. "Do you think I could ask a favor from the two of you?"

Surprised by the friendly tone, both boys agreed. Draco kept looking at the foot of his bed.

"The two of you tried to play a prank, and you ended up getting more than you bargained for. On the other hand, someone tried to hurt Draco and ended up with less than he wanted. Draco is still alive." Snape's friendly voice adopted a sinister tone. "That someone may try again. And I don't know who that someone is."

Goyle looked up with a flash of insight. "We could watch out for Draco. To make sure nobody hurts him." Crabbe nodded in agreement at the wonderful idea. Draco looked up as he understood Snape's plan. And the Professor managed to get those two idiots to suggest the idea themselves. They were going to be his bodyguards. The dread of having to associate with these two was replaced by the idea that it could be fun.

"A marvelous idea," Snape chuckled. "But don't be too enthusiastic. All I ask is that you help Draco out if you see he's in any trouble."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded in agreement. They now had permission from a teacher to deliberately hit someone, as long as they could make up a good excuse. Draco could see it in their faces. They loved having him as their new friend.

* * *

Draco sat in his bed as he pondered what Professor Snape had told him. He compared that with what he remembered of Potter's conversation with Professor Black. When Madam Pomfrey came by to check on him, he decided to ask his question.

"How long was Potter in the infirmary?"

Madam Pomfrey gave him a questioning look. "He was here overnight, but only as a precaution. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I remember waking up briefly. I heard him talking to someone. But I remember being too tired to stay awake."

The healer nodded. "And do you remember any of the other times you woke up?"

Draco shook his head. He didn't know he had woken up more than once. He looked up expectantly when Madam Pomfrey sat down next to him.

"I can tell what you're thinking, Draco. You should know that it did take me longer to heal all your injuries, but by the time Potter left here you were already out of danger. All you needed was rest to regain your strength."

"But I've been here for two weeks." He could hear in his voice the pleading for an explanation.

"Consider yourself lucky. Things could have been a lot worse." She paused to sigh. "I have a visitor to see you. I'll bring you something to eat after you're done talking."

Draco nodded. Madam Pomfrey walked to the door and opened it. Professor Dumbledore was standing there. He gave his thanks as he entered, and walked over to Draco's bedside.

"Madame Pomfrey tells me you've made a complete recovery, Mister Malfoy. May I give you my congratulations."

"Thank you, Sir." His voice held wariness. "Did you find out who pushed me?"

"Alas, we have not, as Professor Snape has already told you. Nor do I think it will be an easy task. Had the culprit used magic . . ."

Draco looked down, then looked up as a thought occurred to him. "Whoever attacked Potter used magic."

Dumbledore smiled grimly. "And managed to hide himself as well. That individual was undoubtedly more skilled than your attacker." The headmaster eyed Draco thoughtfully. His next question was in a soft voice.

"Do you remember the Dursleys?"

"Who?"

A floodgate opened. Memories came back that he hadn't thought of in years. The time he weeded the garden. The beatings. The yelling. The constant digs and insults. Unbidden, a tear flowed down his cheek. He tried to speak but the words would not come. He couldn't bring himself to raise his head.

"You should know that it was my decision to put you with them, not that I really had much choice. After your parents died, your Aunt Petunia was your closest living relative." Draco felt a hand on his shoulder. "If I had known what would happen, I assure you I would have made another choice."

"An orphanage?"

"Your life would have been different. As a baby, you would have been quickly adopted. You would have had a loving family. You could have grown up much like your friend, Justin."

Draco felt the hand leave his shoulder. At the same time he heard a noise. A chair. He looked up to see Dumbledore sit down.

"It is ironic," the headmaster continued. "In view of what has happened, you were probably better prepared because of the life you had."

"Prepared? For what?"

"I am not trying to be cruel, Mister Malfoy. I am trying to be realistic. The environment you grew up in prepared you for adversity. A lesser person would have crumbled already but you, at such a young age, have thrived under such adverse conditions."

Draco barked a laugh. "Thrive? Try survive? And I'm barely doing that. I've been sneered at from the first. I've been attacked twice. Three times if you count the troll. And I've slept in this bed more than my own." He muttered, more to himself. "Thank me lucky stars I won't thrive too much more."

Dumbledore gave a wry look. "I will admit you have been lucky." He paused, giving Draco a searching look, his eyes finally resting on the scar. His voice was subdued. "Luckier than any of us might have expected." He tried to give the boy a kind smile. "But it has become more than obvious that we need to keep a closer watch on you."

"I'm delighted."

"Your sarcasm is well developed." He held up his hand before Draco could speak. "But there is a reason why I came to talk to you. After this last incident, there is the real possibility that you may not want to continue your education at Hogwarts. I have talked to a friend and, if you think it would be safer, we could arrange to transfer you to another school of magic."

Draco laughed with delight. "Professer, that's the nicest I ever been thrown out of any school in me life. Ya got bollocks, that's for sure."

"You are not being 'thrown out', nor are you being asked to leave. This is an open ended invitation to go to a different school." A pause. "Personally, I would prefer you to stay here. Although you may not like my new arrangements if you decide to stay."

Draco frowned as Dumbledore explained what he intended. From now on, when Draco was outside the common room, he would always have company. He was not surprised that Hermione Granger volunteered to walk with him to classes and meals. She did that most times, already. Dumbledore was being realistic, also. The list of students he could ask to escort him was fairly short. Fred and George Weasley had volunteered but, like Hermione, would be spending a good amount of their free time with Quidditch practice. Also, the prefects were told to accompany him if he needed to go anywhere. For anything else, Draco was told he could 'ask' Ron Weasley or Dean Thomas. One of them might say yes.

The conversation concluded, Dumbledore stood up to leave. Again he paused, as though he were trying to think of a closing comment. "Draco, I know things have been hard for you, but one thing is obvious. Your parents loved you very much. I think you should remember that."

"Yes, Sir. I will." Draco watched as the old wizard left the infirmary. Despite all that was said, he had the feeling that much more was left unsaid.

* * *

Draco's next guest was Hermione. She saw Draco sitting up in bed and rushed at him, forcing him into a hug.

"'mione," he gasped.

"You had us worried," Hermione told him in a scolding voice, as though he had done it deliberately.

"I'm fine," he said as Hermione released him from her hug and stood up. She was crying.

"You had us worried."

"I'm fine," Draco repeated, but with more compassion. In an attempt at humor, he added, "Good thing Ron found me again."

Hermione's face held surprise. "You know?" One hand was wiping away the tears.

"Madam Pomfrey told me. And she told me about Potter." He felt he should add, "that someone was hexing his broom."

Now, her voice held a touch of fear. "Draco, you need to know about Potter. I know who was hexing his broom. You won't like it. I saw him through my binoculars. It was Professor Snape. He was constantly chanting and looking at Harry. And he wasn't blinking." She paused for breath.

"Hermione . . ."

"It's true, Draco, that's how we found you. Ron and . . . Ron followed me in case I needed help. We were going to try and stop him . . ." She sighed. "As we reached the ground, Ron looked behind us. That's when he saw you."

She was crying again. She had not noticed Madam Pomfrey walk up and stand behind her. Draco understood by the woman's look he wasn't to say anything. This could be important. Hermione took a deep breath.

"Sorry. I remembered how you looked. It was worse than on the train."

"I'm better now," Draco said softly, trying to reassure her. It seemed to help.

Hermione gave a nervous laugh. "I panicked. It was Ron who ran to you. And it was Ron who told me to go stop Snape while he went for help." She hiccuped. "Sorry. If you heard then you know I wasn't able to stop Snape. Thankfully, Angelina Johnson was there to catch Harry."

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. "Am I disturbing anything."

"Oh, uh, no," Hermione looked afraid. Afraid that she had been overheard.

"I heard a sob, dear," Madam Pomfrey said as she gestured for Hermione to sit down. "I assume those tears are in relief." She handed the girl a cup. "Chamomile tea. I've always found it soothing."

"Thank you," Hermione said gratefully, and sipped at the tea. She smiled at Draco. Draco smiled back. He would keep her secret about Longbottom being there.

"I have to be honest, Hermione. The only thing you told me that I didn't already know was that you were there when Ron found me."

"And that," Pomfrey said, "explains Mister Weasley's reticence to fully explain what happened."

Draco was watching his friend as she took another sip of the tea. "Hermione saw Professor Snape casting the countercurse and came to the wrong conclusion."

"Countercurse?" the girl asked.

"He doesn't know who the caster was, but he knows it was someone better than him at jinxes, at least at that one."

"He was trying to help Harry? He hates the Potters."

Draco was smiling. "He doesn't want them dead. Only humiliated. That's a lot more fun when you think about it."

Madam Pomfrey put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You should be thankful you didn't have a chance to stop him. Who knows what damage you might have done."

Hermione nodded with relief then looked up with suspicion. "How did you know I tried to stop Professor Snape."

The healer did not give herself away. "Why else would Ronald Weasley refuse to mention that you were there? And from someone as strong willed as you, I would expect nothing less." She reached over and squeezed Hermione's chin when the girl smiled. "Who else could have talked Fred and George Weasley into searching for Draco when the troll was loose in the castle. Those boys may play the fools but we both know they're only playing."

Draco gasped. "You what?"

"They told me they told you," Hermione said casually. "Don't be surprised. That's how Potter and Longbottom ended up in trouble."

"They were surprised by the twins?"

"No. They told everyone that they were going to search for you but they really went off to hunt for the troll."

Draco smirked. "I get it. Fred and George said they were going to hunt for the troll but they really went off to find me." A pause. "They all could have gone together as it turned out." Another pause. "What happened."

"Well, I missed most of it, but Angelina Johnson was close enough to grab Harry when he fell. The other chasers . . ."

"No, we're done with that. How much trouble did Longbottom and Potter get into?"


	14. A Thin Veneer

A/N: It is Sunday now, and I finally have a day off. I'll start off by thanking everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story.

I want to thank Feline Jaye for praising my sorting hat song. That is one review I didn't expect. But that reminded me that no one figured out (or said they did) where I specifically mentioned which house Draco was going to go into. If anyone is curious at this point, go back to Chapter Seven and read the first letter of each line in the song. Personally, I thought it was obvious. For fun, I'll delete this part of the notes when I post the next chapter.

A note to Young Prewett: Harry first met Fluffy before Halloween. That sounds like a demented movie. "When Harry Met Fluffy."

I don't know how many readers are familiar with "The Red Green Show." Those who are will appreciate the following story concept. The Boy-Who-Lived is sent to Canada to live with his uncle at Possum Lodge. On his eleventh birthday, Harold receives his letter. "So, it looks like Harold is going away to school. They say they can teach him to be a wizard. Shows you how much wizards know. And if my wife is watching, I'll be home right after the meeting."

**Chapter 14: A Thin Veneer**

It was Sunday. Hermione stopped by the infirmary so she and Draco could walk together to the Great Hall for dinner. As they neared the stairway to the entrance hall, two third year Ravenclaw students approached from the other direction. Draco, feeling good, smiled and nodded at them.

"You don't need to smile at us," one of the Ravenclaws said. "We know what you really are."

As those two passed them and went down the stairs, Hermione turned to Draco. "I should have told you earlier. There's a rumour that you jinxed Potter's broom."

"But I was pushed over the railing."

"You slipped while you were making your escape. It seems . . ."

A loud noise was heard from the bottom of the stairs. One of the Ravenclaws was lying on the ground. Goyle was standing over him. The other Ravenclaw was making gurgling noises as Crabbe held onto his throat.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Hermione demanded as she ran down the stairs, Draco on her heels. "There's no fighting allowed."

"Fighting?" Goyle asked in surprise. "This one fell," he said as he lightly kicked the boy on the floor with his foot. "And Vince made a lucky catch before that one took a tumble as well."

"Yeah," Crabbe said in agreement. He let go of the older boy's throat. Ignoring the rasping noises, he added, "They were so intent on apologizing to Draco that they forgot to look where they were going." He asked the Ravenclaw boy, "Ain't that right?"

"Yeah," the Ravenclaw croaked. He eyed Crabbe's fist. "Sorry about that remark, Malfoy."

"No harm done," Draco said cheerily. "Do you need help with your friend?"

The Ravenclaw glared at Draco but any remark was cut off when Professor Snape appeared. "Is there any problem here?"

"No, Sir," the Ravenclaw mumbled, and helped his friend stand up. As they walked away, Snape added, "Next time, do be more careful." He gave Draco a nod and followed the two boys into the Great Hall.

"That was fun," Goyle said as he and Crabbe grinned at Draco and Hermione.

"Hermione," Draco said in the same cheerful voice, "Have you met Vince and Greg? They offered to help me out if I have any problems."

He almost laughed at Hermione's look of surprise. When she mouthed the word, 'Help?', Draco nodded.

"I'm Greg," Goyle said as he took Hermione's hand and shook it. "And this is Vince."

Crabbe smiled. "Everyone says you're the smartest girl in our year. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. I'm not very good at Transfiguration . . ."

"I would be happy to help," Hermione offered hesitantly. Crabbe was one of the boys who had beaten Draco on the train, and had only a minute before assaulted another student for being rude to Draco.

Vince smiled. "I need an essay for tomorrow afternoon. Six inches should be fine."

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "You want me to do your homework for you?"

"I'll pay you. How much do you charge?"

"I don't charge anything . . ."

"Great. I pick up the parchment at lunch tomorrow."

"NO." Hermione was back in control of herself. "I'm not doing anyone's homework except my own. I thought you were going to ask me to tutor you."

"Tutor me? Why would I need more lessons when I can't learn it the first time?"

Hermione looked at Draco for support. Draco smiled and turned to Crabbe. "I'll try to get her to change her mind while we eat, but I don't think she's going to do it."

Crabbe shrugged his shoulders. "I tried. I guess I'll just have to do it myself."

Draco heard Hermione sigh in relief as the two Slytherins turned and walked to the Great Hall.

"I don't believe he actually asked me to do his homework."

"He did offer to pay you," Draco noted with a smile.

Hermione grabbed Draco's hand to stop him from walking into the Great Hall. "What happened? Aren't they the two . . ."

"Who beat me up? Yeah. Except they're sorry, and now they're going to make sure no one does anything to me again."

Hermione frowned. "They're your bodyguards?"

Draco gave her a serious look. "It was Snape's idea. After what happened at the Quidditch match, he doesn't want to take any chances. He told me he can't watch me all the time."

"And those two?"

"Are dumb enough to believe that beating on other people makes up for beating on me."

Hermione gave a sarcastic smile. "How delightful."

* * *

"Coming through," Potter said with a laugh as he shoved Draco to one side when he rushed past him. Draco's shoulder hit against the stone wall as Longbottom cautioned him to be more careful. Draco looked up to see Potter glancing back at him. Potter was smiling. Then Potter frowned when Draco grinned.

Harry Potter turned away and looked up just in time to see Gregory Goyle running full force down the corridor, and only a few feet away. He stepped aside to let Goyle run past but Goyle changed his direction and barreled directly into Potter. Potter landed in the middle of the hallway after bouncing off the wall. There was a loud thud and Goyle landed on top of him.

"I'm sorry," Goyle said without any effort to mean it. "I was rushing to see if Draco was hurt after I saw you push him." Potter's response was "Ooof," as Goyle put his knee onto the other boy's stomach and pushed himself up by using that knee.

"He deliberately ran into Potter." That was Neville Longbottom. But Draco couldn't see who he was talking to. Draco smiled when he heard Professor Flitwick's voice.

"I saw that. AND I heard his apology. Is Mister Malfoy hurt?"

"Just a bruise," Draco called out, "when my shoulder hit the wall."

Flitwick's toneless voice then asked, "And how are you, Mister Potter."

"Just . . . had . . . wind . . . knocked . . ."

"You and Malfoy are excused from class. I want both of you to go to the infirmary. JUST IN CASE." Draco could see Potter nod his head as Longbottom helped him up. "And, Mister Potter, you and Gregory Goyle will see me tomorrow night for detention. And each of you will lose ten house points. There is no cause for any student to assault any other student, regardless of the reason."

"Professor . . ." Potter began, but Goyle interrupted.

"If that's the price of helping a friend, It's worth it, Professor. I'll be there for detention."

Goyle turned around. Crabbe was there. They were grinning as they hit their fists against each other. Draco watched as they walked off to their own class.

"That was disgusting," Hermione said from behind him. "Goyle hurt Harry much more than Harry hurt you. But Flitwick gave them the same punishment."

"Snape would've gone worse on Potter. And not just because of who was involved. Potter was provoking me. Greg just took my place." He looked at Hermione's unsmiling face. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must go to the infirmary. Again."

"Draco, deliberately hitting people is not my idea of being fair. Crabbe isn't protecting you. He's just using you as an excuse to hit other people."

"I know, Hermione. And it doesn't bother me at all."

Draco walked up to Potter as Hermione and the others entered the classroom. The black-haired boy was bent over with his hands on his knees. His breathing was almost back to normal.

"I do hate to ask, but do you need my help?"

Potter glared at him and Draco smirked.

"Get away from me, Malfoy. Your goons aren't here anymore to protect you."

"I only need their help, Potter, when I'm attacked from behind. If you ever bothered to meet me face to face, you'd know that. And I did ask. Do you want me to help you?"

Draco could see Potter's anger growing, both because of his words and because the pain was going away.

"I told you to get away from me, Malfoy. Do it or I'll take you up on your offer."

"Only trying to be friendly," Draco said as he turned away, adding flippantly, "Although I don't know why I should bother."

Draco smiled to himself as he heard Potter make a guttural noise. He had made the other boy angry, but hopefully not too angry. He slowly walked away and tried to listen to the other boy's footsteps. His only warning that he had gone too far was the sound of a wand being drawn. Draco reacted instantly. Potter had just started to call out Petrificus Totalus when Draco fell forward and to his right. He was still moving when he felt a wave of magic flow past him. Potter had missed.

Draco sprang up. His wand was in his hand. Potter was calling out the bodybind curse. Draco called out his own spell. "FLAMUS ERECTOR." As ropes flew at him to bind him, he finished his incantation. A wall of fire appeared and burned the ropes to ashes before they ever touched Draco.

"Turnabout is fair play, Potter," Draco called out, then shouted, "Impedi . . ."

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Draco's wand flew out of his hand, as did Potter's. The blond boy turned around to see who it was, although he did recognize the voice. Professor Black. The man was furious.

"Both of you will follow me to the Headmaster's office."

Draco spoke up. "Professor Flitwick told us to go to the infirmary. To make sure neither of us was hurt from our previous encounter." Just to make things worse, Draco decided to smile.

Black glared at Draco, then gave the same look to Potter. "Previous, Harry?"

The door to the Charms classroom flew open and Professor Flitwick was there. His face matched Professor Black's. "Fighting again? Potter, you already have one detention with me. Are you trying for a week?" He turned. "And you, Malfoy, did you think you needed personal revenge."

Potter said nothing, but hung his head. Draco wasn't fooled. Thanks to Flitwick's remark, he knew exactly where Professor Black would place the blame.

Black showed Flitwick the two wands in his hand. "I've everything under control, Filius. And I'll be taking them to Dumbledore instead of Pomfrey. They've proven they're healthy enough."

Draco followed along as cheerfully as he could.

* * *

Potter stood silently as the DADA Professor explained everything he had seen. Black also added everything that Vincent Crabbe had cheerfully told him when the Slytherins came to his class. Black then excused himself and left, saying he might still get half a class in, "if anybody stayed, that is."

Potter kept his head down. "I'm sorry, Sir. I let myself be provoked. And Uncle Sirius even warned me about my temper. I have no excuse for what I did."

"Really?" Dumbledore was not amused. "And were you angry when you roughly pushed Mister Malfoy into the wall."

"I thought I was being playful. You know. Just teasing him a bit. I didn't think I pushed him that hard."

"I believe that part about you didn't think." Dumbledore looked at the boy thoughtfully. "You will see Professor McGonagall about your punishment. Under the circumstances, you will not be expelled for deliberately assaulting another student twice, not only in the same day but within the same hour." He held up Potter's wand and motioned for the boy to take it. As the boy did, Dumbledore added, "Harry, you have your father in you, but this is a step even he would not have taken. I will be informing him personally of what has happened here today."

"Yes, Sir." Potter looked as though he had been hurt more than if he had been given a hundred detentions. He left without looking at anything but the floor.

"Draco?"

The boy looked up. "Headmaster?"

"Flamus Erector?"

Draco had to smile. "Professor Snape showed me that spell. He says I have an affinity for fire. It worked perfectly, I'm happy to say."

"Indeed, it did?" Dumbledore was looking at Draco as though he was trying to memorize everything about the boy. "Shielding spells are usually taught starting in the third year. That was a very impressive piece of magic."

Draco's smile became real. "Thank you, Sir."

Dumbledore wasn't smiling. "And why did you deliberately provoke Mister Potter when you could see he was in a clearly agitated state?" He didn't wait for Draco to answer. "Your situation here is tenuous at best, Mister Malfoy. I have already talked to you about that. Every member of the staff has gone to exceptional lengths to make your stay here as easy as possible."

"Everyone?" Draco dared to ask.

"Some more than others. You do remember your legacy, Draco. Most students here, and their parents, couldn't care less how nice a person you are. Your name is Malfoy. And that is all they need to know."

"It's still November, Sir, and I've spent half the school year so far in the infirmary. I DO understand what you're saying."

Dumbledore nodded. "Then take your wand, Draco. And please mind your tongue in the future. You were as reckless with it as Potter was with his wand. And I will inform Professor McGonagall that your punishment is to be the same as Potter's." He gave a humourless smile at Draco's reaction. "I consider provocation to be as serious a crime as the violence it incites. You would do well to remember that."

Draco nodded. He stepped up and took his wand from the headmaster. As did Potter, he didn't look at anything as he made his way out of the office. He was not surprised to find Percy Weasley waiting to escort him. They walked together in silence.

* * *

Draco knocked on the door. When he was told to enter, he opened the door and walked into Professor McGonagall's office. Potter was already there. So were Professors Black and Flitwick. Only Potter was standing. At McGonagall's gesture, he stood next to the black-haired boy.

"Draco, consider yourself lucky. Harry had the privilege of hearing two of his teachers explain what happened. You were spared that particular tirade. You will not be spared the punishment. You deliberately goaded him into attacking you. And I would like to hear your explanation."

Draco didn't hesitate. Nor did he lie. "I never intended for him to attack me. All I wanted to do was let him know how much I despise him. After all, he has always made the effort to remind me of the way he feels."

It was Professor Black who reacted. "YOU IMPERTINENT LITTLE SCOUNDREL. AFTER EVERYTHING YOUR PARENTS DID . . ."

"SIRIUS!" McGonagall was on her feet and almost bending over the man. Her voice was cold. "You, above all people, should be the one to maintain control over your emotions. I don't care who Draco Malfoy's parents were. I don't care who Harry Potter's family are. Two students were dueling in the hallway outside of the Charms classroom. THAT is my concern."

Black's voice was low. "I was out of line, Minerva."

"I am not the one you should apologize to."

"You're the only one here who deserves an apology." Black's voice was stone and would brook no argument.

"Then you may leave," McGonagall replied in the same tone. She remained standing as Professor Black rose out of his chair and stalked out of the room. Only then did she sit down again.

"Mister Potter, do you share your Godfather's opinions in this matter?"

Silence filled the room. Draco saw his housemate thinking furiously on how to answer that question. His own mind was racing as well. What if Potter refused to apologize? After all, he did start all of this. But then, what if he did apologize?

"I don't want an apology," Draco blurted out. Having said that, he forced himself to continue. "He won't mean it. He'll just mouth the words to save himself from getting into more trouble."

"Really," McGonagall said with mock amusement.

"Well, that's what I think. I mean, that's what I'd do if I was in his position."

"You are in his position," McGonagall stated. "Or near enough."

"Then I won't apologize either. I tol' you I wun't lie, an' it'd be a lie. 'ey'd know I was Radio Rental if I said I was sorry an' meant it." Draco groaned inwardly as he realized he slipped out of his fancy voice.

"Very well. No one will be asked to apologize." Despite the sternness of her voice there was a touch of amusement. With her next line, the amusement was gone. "This is your punishment. For both of you. I'm taking fifty house points from each of you."

"What?" It was Potter who spoke.

"Yes, Mister Potter. Fifty points each. From my own house. And I will leave it to the two of you to explain yourselves. Each of you will also serve a week's detention. Mister Potter, Professor Flitwick has agreed to take care of you as you already have one detention with him. And don't worry about missing Quidditch practice. You are suspended from the team for the remainder of the year. I will inform Oliver Wood."

She turned to look at the other student in the room. "Mister Malfoy, I will be asking Professor Sprout to take care of your detention. I am assured there is plenty of work in the greenhouses for you to do."

Draco frowned. He knew from Justin what Professor Sprout's detentions were like. They weren't punishment assignments in a classroom. They were midnight romps through the marshes looking for mushrooms, or early morning strolls (of several miles) to pick rare flowers. He would be spending most of his time trying to stay awake.

* * *

Hermione was waiting when Draco finally returned to the common room with Percy. Almost everyone else had already gone to dinner.

"How are you?"

Draco could see it in her eyes. She knew about what happened. "What did Potter tell you?"

"That he's off the team because of you. And that the house lost 100 points, because of you."

"He actually said that I attacked him?"

Hermione gave him a grim smile. "Well, it was the way he said it. He claimed you went barmy and he tried to stop you before you hurt anyone. Neville helped him with the phrasing."

"Oh."

"And what happened?"

"After the rest of you went into the classroom, I deliberately provoked him into attacking me."

"Why?"

"Why not? Better to ask how. I asked him if he needed any help getting to the infirmary, and berated him when he told me to get away from him."

"Why did you do that if you knew he was angry?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "I was mad. After all, he attacked me. All I did was defend myself." He gave her an angry smile. "And Professor Black witnessed the whole thing and told McGonagall about it before I even made it to her office."

Draco smiled to himself. If Potter was going to tell his lies, he would tell a few lies of his own. No one would believe him because he was Draco Malfoy, but they might decide to doubt.

Percy Weasley chuckled. When Draco looked at him, the prefect said, "At least it's never boring when you're around."

Draco replied snidely, "I'm glad I could entertain you."

"Well, I'm off to dinner. Granger, will you take charge of him, or should I escort him down to the Great Hall?"


	15. Detention

A/N: I have literally read the reviews for this chapter just before typing this. I think I answer Artemis-Chan's question at the end of this chapter, by the way. On another note, Raziel Tepes made a good point by disagreeing with my interpretation of why Draco's scar hurt. I would like to explain my logic on this matter, (it might be interesting,) but it would take up too much space. I am now thinking about adding an appendix to the story. As it is, I have been working on a project for the past month and I will not be doing any more writing until I start working less than 60 hours a week, sometime in late March. (Chapter posting are still not a problem.) On the other hand, I have a holiday weekend coming up. I'll try my best.

Again, I thank everyone who has been following my story. I hope I don't disappoint you in this chapter or the rest to follow.

**Chapter 15: Detention**

It was Wednesday. At midnight on every Wednesday, all the first years climbed to the top of the astronomy tower to study the stars. Everyone was always tired on Thursday morning. Draco was going to be more tired than the others.

After class he walked all the way from the top of the tower to the greenhouses outside. Professor Sprout was waiting for him. To make matters worse, she was smiling.

"There's my little helper now. Cheer up, Mister Malfoy. A little exercise never hurt anyone. And we have a healthy walk ahead of us."

Draco was ushered away from the school and down the hill to the lake. They followed the lake for more than an hour then began a brisk walk upward. It was a hill lower than the one Hogwarts stood on, but this one was craggy and moss covered. When they reached the top, Professor Sprout addressed Draco for the first time, other than to tell him to hurry up.

"Do you see the moss on these rocks?"

"Yeah?"

"That's why we're here. Most of this is ordinary moss, but I want you to help me search the crevices. We're looking for a purplish moss. Mungwort. Do you know what it looks like?"

Draco nodded. "But most of it had been dried and ready to be crumbled to powder."

Sprout smiled. "I'm glad that Professor Snape is keeping his students informed. Or did you learn that in one of your private lessons."

Draco smiled in return. "Private. Professor Snape says I have a knack for potions, and a good potions master always knows his sources. He even showed me how to cure belladonna leaves."

"Good for you. Now, Mungwort likes to grow in the crevices instead of just in the shade. And it's most potent when harvested under the full moon when it's at its height. And that is why we had to hurry to get here. And we'll have to hurry as well. We'll have no more than twenty minutes to finish the task. As it is, we still have an hour before the proper time so I want you to start here and work your way north. I'll do the same to the south. Make note of every crevice where you find the moss. And when the time come . . ."

Draco laughed. ". . . run like mad to get it all in the basket you gave me."

Professor Sprout laughed as well. "And, Draco, always leave a little bit of the moss behind so it will grow back." She shooed him away to start looking.

He hunted carefully, but did not have much luck. Most crevices had ordinary moss if they had anything. At most, he found a half dozen patches, but one was a fairly good size. He had just discovered a seven patch, a small one about half the size of his hand, when he heard Professor Sprout call out to him. With the full moon giving him plenty of light, he began to fill the basket. A small scoop of his hand took half of the patch he was standing by. The largest patch gave him two large handfuls, with plenty enough left behind to regrow. As it was, he was back at his starting point with the Professor in less than fifteen minutes.

Sprout was smiling again. "That's a fair harvest for a beginner, Draco. You have good eyes. And now for the easy part. The walk back."

It was a slow walk back. Even with the full moon, Draco was careful to watch where he stepped. One slip and he would probably roll all the way to the bottom of the hill. It was with some relief he stepped onto the well-worn path that bordered the lake.

"A beautiful night," Sprout said now that she could walk easily.

Draco looked up. He had seen the night sky reflected on the ceiling of the Great Hall, and he had watched the stars and planets through his telescope during classes, but in the three months he had been at the school he had never bother to just look. The moon was bright, but to look away he could see the stars suspended in the blackness. The landscape beneath pale beneath the moon's glow. In the midst of all of this, Draco could only ruin the moment.

"It sure ain't London, least not where I come from."

"I'll take that to mean you like the view."

"Yeah. No dirty buildings. No trash lyin' about. No sots tryin' to sing 'Ramblin Road.' Something made a noise in the nearby bushes as it ran away. "Ya still got the strange animals runnin' aroun', though."

"It was probably a music critic," Professor Sprout said, then laughed when Draco didn't realize she was telling a joke. "I was talking about the strange animal."

"Oh," Draco said. "I shoulda caught that."

"A small matter." Professor Sprout put a hand to her forehead. "Silly me, I almost completely forgot. Justin Finch-Fletchley wishes you good luck with your detentions."

"This wasn't that hard."

The Professor smiled. "I'm glad you think so. This is what most of my detentions are like. I always use my victims to help gather herbs and plants and such that grow better in the wild."

"And what will we be doing tomorrow night."

A light laugh. "I will be sleeping. I will want to see you next on Sunday morning. No later that three. Will that be a problem?"

"No," Draco said thoughtfully, "but I thought I had detention for the whole week."

"No, dear, you have a week's worth of detention. Seven. To be served as I see fit. And I'll tell you now, your last detention will be the next full moon. We'll be gathering moss again, but from a different place. Expect a longer walk."

They walked silently for a while. Mostly because there was not much to say. To break the silence, Sprout asked, "Do you think your friends will miss you much?"

Draco snorted. "It's just Hermione. And she's been spending more time with Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas. They like when she lectures them."

"That is surprising. Neither one seems like an over achiever."

"Ain't that," Draco told her. "They copy down what she says for their homework. It's easier than looking it up."

"Ah, that explains it."

Draco looked up. "Did I just get them in trouble?"

"No, dear. They've already done that themselves. I was curious why they handed in almost identical papers when it was obvious they didn't copy from each other."

A nervous Draco muttered to himself, "I'll see a couple'a Olivers for sure."

Professor Sprout looked down. "I'm not sure what you said but you won't be in trouble. I will simply mention to Miss Granger that dictating a paper to someone is the same as writing it for them. She's a smart girl. She'll know what to do."

"Yeah," Draco agreed doubtfully.

As they entered the castle, the Great Hall was just opening for breakfast. Professor Sprout ushered Draco in, telling him to eat a large meal. Food would help make up for the lack of sleep.

After breakfast, Draco returned to his dorm to shower and change. He barely made it to Transfiguration. The class went fairly well, but Draco did start yawning near the end. Hermione told him after class that it served him right. He was still yawning as they made their way to potions. Snape was there at the door. He marched Draco into his office, sat him down (in a rather comfortable chair) and told him to wait. It took Draco two minutes to fall asleep.

"UP. GET UP."

Draco shook himself awake to see Snape standing over him. "Sorry, Professor, I . . ."

Snape smiled at him. "Class is over, and a two hour nap should get you through the rest of the day."

"Two hours?"

Snape nodded. "And you still have some time before lunch." He sat down across from Draco and waved his wand. A tea service appeared between them. As he poured, he asked, "Exactly what did happen in the hallway. Crabbe and Goyle explained very clearly what happened before class."

"Um," Draco said slowly, taking the proffered cup. "Flitwick told us to go see Madam Pomfrey. I asked Potter if he needed help. He insulted me. I insulted him. Then I turned my back on him and walked away."

"And as you turned away, you said what?"

"I din't say . . ." Draco looked at the Professor's smirk, "I told him I didn't know why I bothered. And I said it in a rude tone."

Snape nodded. "And then you turned and shouted a curse at him."

Draco was on his feet. "THAT'S A LIE. DID POTTER TELL YOU THAT OR WAS IT . . ." His voice became low and sarcastic. "Or was it Uncle Sirius?"

"What I heard is that you were shouting a curse at Harry Potter when Professor Black seized your wand." Snape paused to take a sip of his tea. "Why don't you sit back down and tell me exactly what happened between turning your back on Potter and shouting a curse at him. When you are done, you will go to the Great Hall to get something to eat. And I will have a friendly chat with the appropriate people."

* * *

Draco ate lunch quickly. When he arrived, Hermione Granger was sitting across from Weasley and Thomas and giving then a very large piece of her mind. He finished eating in record time and fled the Great Hall.

Charms class was everything but as Hermione sat next to him. She never said anything to him but would occasionally mutter the word, "boys," as though it was something completely distasteful.

As class ended, Draco turned and asked, "Can I carry your books for you, Hermione?"

Hermione glared at him. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I don't. I was trying to be nice. It'll make the next class easier to take."

"Fine," Hermione said in a huff and handed him her books, smirking when he frowned. "You did offer."

Draco took the books and followed her out of the classroom. As she led the way to the DADA class, Hermione noted, "Professor Black had a conversation with all of the first years this morning, those of us in Gryffindor. He wanted to clarify exactly what happened, to avoid any untoward rumours."

"Did he mention me?" Draco asked cheerfully.

"Why, I believe he did. He told us how he witnessed a deliberate attack on an injured student."

"He got that wrong. I wasn't hurt at all."

Hermione snarled at him. "He meant Potter. Having someone deliberately run into you does tend to hurt."

"Only if it's done properly, which it was. Greg's very good at what he does."

"Are you done?" Hermione was annoyed but wanted to finish. "Black explained how Potter managed to dodge your first curse and then tried to stop you. And you were ready to finish him when the Professor stepped up."

"And Black told you all of that with a straight face?"

"He did ask Harry if he had his facts straight, and Harry said yes." Hermione smiled at him in victory. "I liked you, Draco, when you were the underdog. But now that you've decided to be the bully, I find my attitude has changed. I'll take my books back now if you don't mind."

"Sure," Draco said as he let the books fall out of his hands. "There they are. I'll see you in class."

* * *

Draco could hear Hermione whispering to the other girls about what had happened. He couldn't make out any specific words, but he didn't have to. He sat in his chair at the end of the row, with no one even bothering to look in his direction. To improve matters, Professor Black walked in. He was smiling.

"All right there, Harry?" he asked in passing. When the boy nodded, Black added, "I'll be talking with McGonagall later. Keep your fingers crossed."

Draco watched as Longbottom gave his friend a playful punch on the arm. One of the girls leaned over and told Potter, "good luck."

"The Class will come to order," Black called out. "Despite events earlier this week, I am still trying to give everyone here," he looked at Draco, "and I do mean everyone, a proper education in defense. And, for certain people, I will emphasis Defense. I want everyone to open your texts to . . . Professor Snape?"

Draco, and everyone else, turned to look at the doorway.

"Professor Black, please forgive the intrusion. I wanted to invite you to sit in on my class tomorrow."

Black tried to scowl. "And why is that?"

"Professor Dumbledore has given me permission to demonstrate Veritaserum to my class. I thought you might like to hear Mister Malfoy admit what happened two days ago, with no chance to distort the truth in any way." He looked to the boy in the corner. "You do volunteer, Draco?"

"Of course, Professor. I'll be glad to help."

Snape smiled, nodding his head as he stepped forward to stand next to the seated Harry Potter. "Will you be able to make it, Sirius?"

Draco watched as Professor Black frowned. "I would like to, but I have the Ravenclaws at that time."

"I forgot," Snape said with oily ease. "I just thought. I have the potion on me. We could demonstrate it in YOUR class. As a defense lesson."

He motioned with his arm and Draco stood up. Draco couldn't help notice Black smiling at the thought. And then Black said the words that let Draco know exactly what was going on.

"I'm surprised at you, Mister Malfoy. Even I wouldn't be so eager to condemn myself."

He didn't know. That was it, Draco thought. He saw how it ended. He heard how it began. And took Potter's word for the rest. Draco deliberately made it a point to look at Potter. Black followed his gaze. Potter was looking nervously at Longbottom, who was sitting on his hands and looking at the floor.

Draco smiled at the DADA Professor, even though Black's attention was no longer on him. "I've never had a problem with telling the truth."

"Mister Longbottom." It was Professor Black who spoke. "Why are you agitated? If Harry lied to you . . ."

"Harry?" Snape asked innocently. "Why would Potter lie to Longbottom? They're the best of friends. And why would either of them lie to their trusting uncle?"

Longbottom glanced around, looked briefly at Professor Black, avoided looking at Professor Snape and turned his eyes back to the floor. "I was the one," he admitted. "I thought, since the punishments are already given out . . ."

"That no one would bother to believe Malfoy," Black spat out the words. "And when I confronted Harry, he was forced to agree or get you in trouble."

"I didn't tell Harry about my plan. I only wanted to get Harry back on the team. Everyone hates Malfoy anyway."

"I didn't." That was Hermione Granger. She was furious. "Not until I heard what I thought was the truth. You're despicable. Both of you." With one quick motion she scooped up her books and left, stomping the entire way.

"Well I'll be jiggered," Draco heard himself say. "Hermione Granger just walked out of a class."

Draco could see Black was furious. Not only had he been embarrassed, but it had happened in front of the one teacher he hated. But Black was not a fool. The man said slowly and carefully, "Longbottom, you will see me after class." He then looked up with practiced ease "Or perhaps, Neville, you would like to volunteer to test Professor Snape's potion."

As Longbottom cringed, Professor Snape sighed. "I regret to say, this isn't the proper potion. It isn't even a potion at all. I filled this vial with some leftover tea. And, Sirius, I never did talk to Dumbledore. And as it turns out, I don't have to."

Black smiled. It even looked like a real smile. "I see I've taught you something after all, Severus. And thank you for helping to bring out the truth."

Snape returned the smile. He nodded to Draco, then turned and left.

"Mister Malfoy," Professor Black said evenly, "as you are the only person I haven't talked to. Why don't you tell us what happened."

"The truth is," Draco drawled, "I provoked him. I was only trying to get him almost angry enough. That was why I was ready to jump out of the way when I heard him pulling out his wand." He paused for effect. "That's why I am being punished as well. The headmaster told me that instigating a fight is just as bad as starting one."

"You don't seem sorry for what you did."

"Why should I be sorry? Potter knows now that I will defend myself. And I don't care how many detentions I get."

Draco's smile never faded. Even as he sat down. He had made his point. From now on, if anyone tangled with him then he would tangle back. Professor Snape even told him back in September. They are afraid of you. You might want to remind them why they should be afraid.

Professor Black nodded at Draco's remark. He walked back to his desk. When he turned around, he looked directly at Draco.

"Mister Malfoy, the shielding spell you used. Where did you learn it? Professor Snape?"

"He gave me a book on shielding spells, Sir. I read about that one and thought it seemed easy enough. And it was."

"You read about it?"

Draco was confused by the reaction. Black seemed surprised. "Yes, Sir. Professor Snape had me try a standard spell, Protego, but I couldn't manage it. A fire shield seemed much easier." The way he ended that sentence let the professor know how he felt.

"Mister Potter, in the future you might want to remember that Mister Malfoy has an affinity for certain types of spells, even at NEWT levels. Five points, Mister Malfoy."

Draco was stunned. Black had said NEWT levels. That meant the spell he cast was only taught to fifth years and above. Fire? Draco's mind was working full force. His wand. Its core was a phoenix feather. The Fire Bird.

"Mister Malfoy."

"Uh, Sir?" His line of thought was broken.

"I gave you five house points."

"Oh? Thank you, Sir."

"And I'll give you another five if you will come up here and perform that same spell for this class."

Draco was surprised at the generous offer. Professor Black was rarely so free with house points, and never with him. There must be a trick to it, he thought as he walked to the front of the classroom. He pulled out his wand and waved it.

"FLAMUS ERECTOR"

There was a small wisp of flame that disappeared almost at once.

"Concentrate, Mister Malfoy," Professor Black told him, "and try to relax a little."

Draco nodded. He took a deep breath and cast the spell again. The result was almost the same. He cleared his throat then tried again. The was no difference on his third attempt.

"That will be enough, Mister Malfoy." The Professor pointed Draco back to his seat. "I managed to witness the effects of Mister Malfoy's spell when he first cast it. It was very impressive. Does anyone know why it didn't work when he tried it in the classroom?"

Draco noted that Black looked at Hermione's empty chair.

"Anyone?" Black asked again. "Think back to a time before you came here. Perhaps the first time any of you performed magic or did something magical. How many of you could have duplicated that feat, deliberately, the following day? The answer is: no one. Mister Malfoy experienced a, for lack of a better word, a surge in his magic. Such a thing is common in younger wizards and witches before they learn to control their abilities."

"Sir," Lavender Brown asked. "Does that mean that Malfoy cast that spell as a fluke?"

Black smiled. "As his teacher I would say he had an unanticipated success. And he is lucky that it was so successful. The shield destroyed the binding ropes coming toward him before they ever had a chance to reach him. Had it been slightly less successful, he could have found himself bound by burning ropes." Black's look told Draco that he was not making fun. It was a serious point he was trying to make. And a valid one.

* * *

Class was over. Draco remembered nothing of it. He looked up when he heard Professor Black calling his name. The professor was motioning him to leave. Longbottom was the only student left in the classroom.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I was wondering."

"Don't worry. Neville, for his little effort will receive the same punishment as you and Harry. You may go."

Draco didn't feel like smiling after all. Now he would be blamed for 150 points. And he still had his original problem. "Um, Hermione was supposed to be my escort. I'm not supposed to walk the halls by myself."

Black gave him an amused look. He walked out the door and shouted. Shortly he returned with Lavender Brown. "Your escort."

Lavender gave him a cross look then shrugged her shoulders. "Come on, then."

* * *

"Draco?"

"Whot?" He didn't even bother looking up from his homework. He knew what Hermione would say. And she chose a good time. Except for them, the common room was empty.

"I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be. Just because he found out it wasn't true? If he had pushed me into that wall a little harder, it could have been."

Hermione sat down at the table. "True," she said in a light hearted tone, "But then you would have admitted it."

"Would I?"

A snort. "You like to brag, Draco, even if its only to me."

Draco put down his quill and turned his head. "I don't brag."

"Oh? Then tell me all about the troll."

"He's going to talk about the troll?"

Draco turned to look at whoever interrupted. There were two people. The Weasley twins.

"We were coming to talk to you," one of them said.

"We need to thank you," the other added.

"Thanks to your little fight with Harry . . ."

"No one will ever complain about us again . . ."

"Regardless of how many house points we lose . . ."

"We'd love to know how Snape found out what Longbottom said."

Both Draco and Hermione stared as the two red heads winked at them.

"You didn't?" Hermione asked incredulously as she stared at the twins. Draco noted approvingly that she kept her voice low, even though no one else was in the common room. "How? Why?"

"Self Preservation," one of them said in a serious tone. "If Longbottom's plan worked and Potter was put back on the team, what do either of you think would happen once the truth came out?"

"Or," the other twin said to Hermione, "do you honestly believe Draco would have kept his mouth shut?"

Hermione looked surprised. "McGonagall would be furious."

The twins both nodded. "Furious enough to disband the team," one said.

The other added, "She'd never believe we all weren't in on it . . ."

"Especially us."

Draco gave his best wry smile. "You'll lose anyway without Potter."

Twins smiles returned to matching faces. "But at least we get to play."

Draco nodded. "And you're telling us because?"

"We need a new seeker."

Hermione laughed. "Draco? You've got to be joking."

Draco noticed the look the twins gave her. "Hermione, they aren't thinking about me."

"But . . ." Hermione was horrified. ". . . I'll be terrible."

Hermione looked at Draco, then looked back at the twins. Then she scowled. "Why me?"

"She's on to us," one twin said to the other.

Hermione turned to the other twin. "Fred, why me?"

"You can tell them apart?" Draco asked.

Hermione didn't even look at him. "Of course I can. I've always been smarter than you. Fred?"

Fred Weasley grinned. "McGonagall won't agree. Not another first year. But it will make the other houses think."

George laughed. "I can hear them now. They tried to get another first year. They must be in really bad shape."

Fred added, "Then when we get someone nearly decent, they'll think he's terrible . . ."

"They won't pay attention to him . . ."

"Or her . . ."

"And that's our best bet . . ."

"To win the next game. Wood already agreed."

Both Hermione and Draco laughed at the idea. But Hermione had to ask. "What if McGonagall says yes?"

George's grin became impossibly wide. "Then you'll spend so much time on a broom, you'll learn to sleep on one."

"Very useful in a match," Fred noted.

"Do we have your permission?" George asked.

"'course ya do," Draco answered for her. "But I need to ask a question."

"Ask away, oh Dark One."

"What's with Potter and Longbottom, anyway? At least twice they've done something and I heard someone say that you two wouldn't even do that."

Both twins laughed. "No one ever told you?" Fred asked.

"Of course not," George answered. "They'd have to talk to you first. It seems that we're not the first ones to try a few pranks."

"We even heard McGonagall," Fred added, "tell Black that she never expected him to be mature enough to be a teacher."

"We even asked Black . . ."

"Good thing we've got him instead of Quirrell for DADA . . ."

"And he admitted that he and Potter's dad . . ."

"Had their share of detentions."

Draco nodded. "Then those two are trying to follow the family tradition?"

"That explains it," Hermione said with authority, "They want a reputation for being pranksters, but the two of you already have one." She turned to Draco. "You see, they keep getting into trouble because they think it's expected of them, plus they're trying to outdo the competition." She shook her head. "Boys can be so juvenile at times."

"I like the way she said that . . ." George noted.

"Yeah, as if to imply that we are included," Fred agreed.

Draco shook his head. "She's not 'implying'," he clarified.


	16. The End of the Year

A/N: I mentioned last week how much I have been working and that I am too tired to make any comments. That's a lie. I'm merely too tired to make any comments that make sense. For example, my latest concept for a crossover. An AU story of Harry Potter and the Suite Life of Zack and Cody. Harry (Harold) Potter and his twin brother, Harry (Henry) Potter, live in a hotel with their adoptive mother. I have no idea how the plot would go as I've never watched the TV show, but the idea struck me as funny.

**Chapter 16: The End of the Year**

"Dumbledore said yes," Draco told Hagrid during their Friday tea.

"An' how is Hermione?"

Justin Finch-Fletchley laughed. When Hagrid looked at him, Justin tried to explain. "We were in Herbology, and Professor Sprout was explaining about tending the roots for the Belladonna. She asked if anyone knew the best fertilizer. Then she asked Hermione."

"Stop laughin', the both o' ye," Hagrid demanded. "What did she say?"

With effort, Justin gave the answer. "What does it matter? It can't fly a broom."

Several passing students heard the noise coming from Hagrid's hut.

"But," Hagrid noted after he had calmed down, "why is she so upset? Ye told me she was jus' fer show."

Draco snorted. "But everyone will be watching her. 'mione's afraid she'll do terrible."

"But she's supposed to be terrible," Justin added with amusement.

"BUT," Draco couldn't help saying, "She's Hermione. She has to try to be the best in whatever she does. Even if she isn't."

"I'm so happy I know about this," Justin said. "I'm going to enjoy watching the tryouts."

Hagrid frowned. "Ye didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"I promised Draco. Beside, we already beat Gryffindor. If they can beat Ravenclaw, it'll make things easier for us. And their chances are better if I do keep my mouth shut."

Draco smiled as Hagrid poured out second cups. "Did you want to help us? Me and Justin."

"Help ye do what?"

"We're going to try to get Hermione on the team." He laughed at Hagrid's stunned look. "We're doing it for her, really. Gryffindor can't win, anyway. And Hermione needs to learn there are some things she can't be best at . . . even if she tries."

"I believe ye," Hagrid said believably.

"Hagrid, ever since I arrived at this school I been the victim of other people's schemes. I was in the infirmary so often they officially made Madam Pomfrey me Foster Mum. I want to give it a go wi' me own plan. An' no one gets hurt by this'un." He added seriously, "I need the practice. I'm dirty an' dusty."

"He's rusty," Justin explained to Hagrid. "Out of practice."

"Out o' practice?" Hagrid cocked an eye at Draco. "Maybe it's best if I jus' watch you two at work." He gave a bemused smile. "What are ye plannin'?"

"Already started," Justin said, smiling. "I innocently asked a group of fourth year Gryffindors if it was true that Granger's been getting secret flying lessons. They all gave me a puzzled look."

"That was the first volley," Draco told the giant. "For round two, I stopped one of the chasers at lunch and asked if they were really giving up on winning. She gave me a very positive answer. And a very forced smile." He sighed. "I hope enough people noticed."

Hagrid shook his head. "Yer praisin' Hermione on the one hand, an' belittlin' the team with the other?"

"Only their chances of winning," Draco said defensively.

"An' what's that supposed to do?"

"Make people not want to try out. If no one else shows up, 'mione gets picked."

Hagrid nodded thoughtfully. "An' what does Hermione think about all o' this?"

Justin laughed as Draco said, "We haven't told her. She's already too nervous as it is."

* * *

"Excuse Me," Draco asked politely. The common room was fairly crowded so he had his pick of people to approach. He chose this table of fifth years.

"What do YOU want," came the snide reply.

"It's, um, about Hermione Granger. She's trying out for Seeker. I know she's been taking lessons secretly but . . ." their looks told him to hurry up " . . . I was wondering what her chances were."

A couple of boys chuckled. "She can have it if she wants it," one answered.

Draco couldn't hide his surprise. This wasn't the response he expected. "But, but what about the competition?"

"What an idiot," one of them muttered. As one they all turned back to their conversation.

Draco turned away. None of them seemed interested in Quidditch, at least in the team. He saw some third year girls and thought about approaching them when one of the Weasley twins walked past him, calling out, "Cormac." Draco watched as a second year looked up from a nearby table. Weasley whispered something and Cormac shook his head. Weasley walked away. Curious, Draco went to follow. He was passing Cormac's table when he heard the second year tell the others he was sitting with, "Who wants to be part of a losing team."

Draco kept walking. He followed Weasley out of the common room. He had come to understand that his plan had already succeeded without him. No one wanted to be the Seeker.

"Fred."

The older boy turned around and looked back down the hallway. "You finally learned to tell us apart?"

"No. Lucky guess." Draco walked up to him. "You asked that boy about being seeker?"

Fred nodded. "He's not really right for the position but he does know how to fly."

"I asked some of the others what Hermione's chances were of making the team."

"I know." Fred tried to keep his annoyance from showing. "She's going to get the position. No one else wants to fill in for us."

Draco did a passable imitation of Cormac. "Who wants to be on a losing team?"

"He said that."

Draco nodded.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they began walking up a flight of stairs.

"Nowhere," Fred told him. "I'm avoiding Wood. Someone's got to tell him our plan backfired. And someone . . ." a glint came into his eye, ". . . has to tell Granger. Draco, my good friend?"

"Crisp it," Draco muttered, "You gone daft? You just called me your friend. And I won't do it. I can't tell Hermione . . ." Draco smiled. "Sure. No problem."

"What?" Fred asked.

"Nuthin'."

"Something."

"I din't do nuthin'."

"You're accent is slipping."

Draco smiled again. "I told Justin an' 'agrid I was goin' ta talk up Hermione so she'd make the team." He noticed Fred's look and guessed the question. "I thought it would be fun watching her try to fly around and all."

Fred clapped Draco's shoulder. "And a marvelous plan it was. I couldn't even talk anyone into trying out."

* * *

"YOU WHAT?" Hermione screamed. "HOW COULD YOU?"

The glare Snape was giving him said to Draco that he shouldn't have told Hermione just before the beginning of potions.

"It was easy. I told everyone you were a better flyer than you let on. And that you've been taking secret lessons to surprise everyone."

"EVERYONE IN FLYING CLASS, YOU NINNY."

Snape was walking over to them. Draco started talking faster.

"But you are better than anyone else we have. Your only problem is that you won't admit it, even to yourself. You could ask anyone. Even the professor. He gave you those lessons."

Hermione took a deep breath but was cut off before she could begin again.

"Why is Miss Granger shouting in my class?" Professor Snape asked with sinister kindness.

Draco tried to smile, but Hermione's glare told him not to. "Hermione's the new Seeker, but she refuses to believe she can do it. I was trying to tell her she flies well enough, but . . ." He stopped at that point. He could see the wheels turning in the Potions Professor's head. If Granger became Gryffindor's seeker then Slytherin could lose their match only if they failed to show up.

"Her qualifications are clear to everyone who has seen her fly," Snape said politely as he turned to look at Hermione. "And I've seen her fly. I've often said that her only problem on a broom is that she lacks confidence in herself. She would be twice as good if she would only stop worrying about it. Do I make myself clear, Miss Granger, or do I need to take house points from you the next time you start yelling?"

"Yes, Sir," Hermione said cautiously. She then asked in a timid voice, "Do you really think I'd make a good Seeker?"

Snape gave her a sincere smile. "I think you're the perfect choice." His smile faded. "Now sit down, both of you. I want no more interruptions." He walked back to his desk, and the class began.

* * *

Draco walked up the long hill to the castle in a daze. He had finished another detention. And it ended with a five mile walk back to school. Professor Sprout was encouragingly cheerful the entire time. It was all Draco could do to walk through the main doors when she held them open for him. He made an automatic right turn and entered the Great Hall for breakfast. He was already filling his plate when he realized he had managed to sit down.

"You're filthy," Hermione told him. "You could have made the effort to wash up before you came here."

"Too tired," said Draco as he shoved something edible into his mouth. He looked up to see Dean Thomas watching him from across the table.

Dean smiled. "Did you really walk twenty miles today?"

Draco tried to snarl. He gave up, shaking his head. "Only ten." He went back to shoveling food into his mouth.

"You smell a bit, too," Hermione noted.

"You could be nicer to him," Dean Thomas suggested.

Hermione did snarl. "I have Quidditch practice every night because I'll only have two weeks of training before the next match, and HE . . ." Draco didn't have to look to know who she was pointing at, ". . . is the reason. I almost fell asleep in Transfiguration, yesterday." Her voice came directly at Draco. "I hope you miss your classes and get detention."

"Is there anything else?" Draco managed to snarl but he didn't have the energy to look up from his plate. His oatmeal felt the full force of his anger.

"Madam Pomfrey wants you to visit her as soon as you finish."

"Why?"

* * *

"First off, I want to congratulate you." Madam Pomfrey was smiling.

"For what?"

"This is the longest you've gone without coming to the infirmary."

Draco smirked. "Is that why you wanted to see me."

"Not at all. Professor McGonagall is making her list today of all the people who are staying for the Christmas holiday. I've been asked by a student if you could spend Christmas at . . ."

"I told Hermione no. I don't want people feeling sorry for me. Beside, she hates me right now."

Madam Pomfrey ignored him. ". . . at his house. His parents have already given their approval."

Draco was surprised. "Justin?"

"Should I tell them yes or no."

Draco frowned as memories came back to him. He remembered the Dursleys. His last Christmas with them he was locked in his cupboard. That way he would not interfere with their celebration. And at the home. The local charity would deliver used clothes and toys for the children. Mick gave him a box of fancy candies, once, that 'a friend gave him'. He gave Mick a fancy leather wallet, with the money still in it. Well, most of the money.

"I don't got nothin' to give," he said softly.

"You have yourself. You can be very entertaining if you try."

It worked. Draco laughed. "Only if I fail. An' I do that a lot."

"Nonsense." Madam Pomfrey led him to her office and sat him down at a small table. "Justin Finch-Fletchley thinks you've given him a great deal. He wants to pay you back."

Now Draco was confused. "For what?"

"You helped him become friends with a giant, for one. He was very grateful that you introduced him to Hagrid. He also likes the fact that his best mate is the 'bad boy' of the school."

"He called me his best mate?" Draco was stunned. For all that, he had never thought of Justin that way. Justin was always someone he could spend time with, rather than being alone. Or with Hermione when she became too much for him. He frowned. " I don't really want to. You know. I'll stick out."

Pomfrey nodded. "Did you know that Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter are staying. Their families are going to visit them here. A reunion of sorts. Do you still want to stay?"

Draco thought for a bit. Christmas was never much of a holiday for him. Under the circumstances, though, going someplace would be better than staying. "Did Justin really ask you?"

"Yes."

"I'll go, I guess. What do I have to do?"

"Take the train to London." A paused. "And have a Happy Christmas."

Draco nodded. As he headed for class, he couldn't help thinking. He had never let himself get close to anyone since he came to the school. He didn't know how to deal with it.

He entered the classroom and looked around. With only a slight hesitation, he sat next to Hermione. He tried to sound cheerful. "Only two more days till the match."

Hermione looked at him through tired eyes. "And why are you happy?"

"I'm spending the holiday with a friend."

"A friend? You still have one?" She frowned. "It must be Justin from Hufflepuff. After everyone found out that you tricked them into getting me on the team, no one in Gryffindor wants to have anything to do with you."

"I can live with that. As long as they don't want to do anything to me. So, how's practice?"

"I stink. And I'm too tired to care."

* * *

Draco and Hermione walked into the Great Hall for lunch the next day. The Ravenclaw table was in an uproar. As they passed him, Ron Weasley was saying, "You're joking."

Dean Thomas looked up at them from across the table. "Have you heard. There was an accident in potions."

Ravenclaw's Keeper and their best chaser were paired in potions class that morning. It was double potions with Hufflepuff. They made a mistake in preparing the potion. Dean didn't know the specific details but the word was that they would both be in the infirmary for a week. Draco looked over at the Ravenclaw table. With the match tomorrow it was now obvious what they were all talking about.

Later, when Draco asked, Professor Snape assured him that it really was an accident. "They aren't playing Slytherin until April."

* * *

It was Saturday. Next week, everyone would head home for the holidays. Today, they were all gathered in the cold to watch the second game of the year. As the teams flew out over the pitch, Justin noted that Hermione seemed unusually comfortable on the broom. Draco said that she wasn't comfortable. She was suffering from shock. At least she would be amusing to watch.

The match began. The Gryffindor chasers wasted no time. With the other team fielding a Keeper who had no training, they had made the obvious plan. Try to run up the score so that when the Ravenclaw seeker caught the snitch they would still have the lead.

Draco watched with fascination as the players flew all over. For a while he watched Fred and George as they knocked the bludgers about. Hermione kept flying around on her broom, trying to stay close to the Ravenclaw Seeker. Justin told him her name was Cho Chang. She was a second year, and this was also her first match. Draco noted that Chang looked like she knew what she was doing. It wouldn't help his team very much.

The best part was Lee Jordan, the announcer. He was a Gryffindor and clearly prejudiced. He had already commented several times about Angelina Johnson having her best year, and at least three times he called her the best in the school. He also said that a couple of times about the other chasers.

The game itself seemed to last forever. Then, when Gryffindor was winning 170 points to 40, Lee Jordan alerted everyone.

"Cho Chang is diving. She's seen the snitch. Angelina Johnson has grabbed the Quaffle. and is making a run. Hermione Granger is trying to follow Chang. Nice turn by Chang. She's closing in on the snitch. Johnson shoots. She scores. Chang makes another turn. I can see it. She's almost within reach." A pause. "Granger runs into her. She wasn't even close until the snitch made that last turn."

Lee Jordan didn't say anything else. But everyone heard it. Cho Chang screamed at Hermione. Everyone could hear the word: **INCOMPETENT**. It was the worst possible insult she could have made. She flew off after the snitch.

Hermione just sat there on her broom. Draco knew exactly how she was feeling. He hung his head so that he wouldn't have to watch. Someone came up behind him. Draco recognized the voice. Cedric Diggory.

"That was a brilliant move," he said, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Gryffindor may still pull it off."

"What?" Draco looked up at Diggory in surprise. Diggory pointed as people in the stands started yelling. Draco turned to the scoreboard. 180 to 40. "If Chang catches the snitch, they win." The match suddenly became very interesting to everyone.

Cho Chang was so intent on catching the snitch that she wasn't paying attention to anything or anyone else. Everytime the snitch zigged, she zigged with it. She was steady getting closer. Draco glanced over and saw that Gryffyndoor's Keeper, Oliver Wood, had the Quaffle in his hand. He threw it to a chaser, one whose name Draco couldn't remember. The girl flew as fast as she could. She was halfway across the pitch when Cho Chang made a grab for the snitch. Chang missed. The Gryffindor seeker threw the Quaffle as a last chance. It was a strong throw and it went straight for the lowest hoop, but she was too far away. The Keeper would have plenty of time to stop it. As she let go of the quaffle, Cho Chang made another grab. The whistle blew. She had caught the snitch. The Ravenclaw Keeper laughed. He never even bothered to stop the Quaffle. It didn't matter. The game was over.

"At least it was close," Draco started to say but was interrupted when Diggory, still behind him, shouted, "IDIOT". As the word left his mouth, the Quaffle passed through the hoop.

"What happened?" Justin asked, turning around to look at his housemate.

"Gryffindor just tied the score," Diggory said with disgust. "Spinnet threw the Quaffle before Chang caught the snitch. That ball was still in play. And that moron for a Keeper let it go."

Draco couldn't help but stare. Gryffindor tied? Then he remembered what Diggory had said earlier. "And it's all because of Hermione's brilliant move?"

The Ravenclaw team was furious, as Diggory was pointing out to Justin and Draco and anyone else within hearing distance. The Keeper had thrown away a sure win, and now they had to trade goals. When Justin asked, Diggory explained that a Quidditch Match could not end in a tie. If it did then each of the chasers for each team would try in turn to score a goal against the other team's Keeper. If the score was still tied, there was a second round and so on.

Diggory did not need to say one thing. No one, including his own teammates, had the slightest confidence in Ravenclaw's Keeper. This was all a formality.

Ravenclaw went first. The new chaser failed on her attempt. The next chaser scored. The third chaser threw the quaffle close enough, and fast enough by Oliver Wood that he barely touched it in an effort to block it. But touching it was enough. The quaffle hit the rim of the post and bounced away.

Angelina Johnson took the quaffle for Gryffindor's first attempt. She immediately flew toward the goals as fast as she could. Without an effort, she swerved as she approached the Keeper, flew past him and threw the quaffle through the central goal, all without any effort.

Alicia Spinnet was next. Gryffindor were already cheering before she was given the quaffle. Like the chaser before her, Spinnet flew directly at the Ravenclaw Keeper. The Keeper, however, attempted to save himself some dignity. He flew directly at her, forcing Spinnet to change course, and thus reveal her intended target. But the chaser did the unexpected. She turned upward and then backward, making a loop. When she finished, she was under and past the Keeper with a clear path to whichever post she wanted. Her goal gave Gryffindor the match.

Laughter filled the air as Madam Hooch announced the score.

* * *

It was a celebration. Everyone was in good spirits. Draco was even invited to attend. George Weasley pointed out to one complainer that Draco was the reason that Hermione was on the team. Draco was given a butterbeer and found himself sitting with Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas.

"Bloody Briliant, she was," Ron was saying. "I mean, we all knew she couldn't catch the snitch, not without loads more practice. But running into the other seeker. AND making it look like an accident." He paused in his banter to look at Draco. "Why'd she just stop? She didn't get a foul or anything."

Draco hesitated. "I don't think anyone ever yelled at her like that. It shook Hermione."

"Well, she better get used to it. Once Slytherin figures that out they'll have everyone on the team yelling at her. "Course, we're lucky there. We played the first two matches, but our next match is the last one of the year. She'll be great by then."

Draco nodded. Cheering started and Hermione entered the common room with Alicia Spinnet. They were both smiling, although Hermione's smile seemed forced. Draco made sure that when she looked around and saw him that he was applauding, just like everyone else.


	17. Christmas

A/N: First, I want to congratulate Mandraco for pointing out in her review that veritaserum is clear in color. Snape said he put leftover tea in his vial. Anyone who knew what veritaserum looked like would have noticed the difference at once. On the other hand, Snape never showed anyone the vial. He only said he had it.

My thanks to everyone who has been reading, and to my reviewers. Particularly, Artemis-Chan who told me I turned the Keeper into a Seeker. I would like to note that I turned him back into a Keeper.

I also find that I get my wish and post this chapter on the holiday weekend. I should say on a holiday weekend. The birth they're celebrating here in th U.S. is George Washington's. As Trivia, he would have been 275 this year. To those of you who live outside of the U.S. I would like to say, "Ha, Ha. I have Monday off with pay and you still have to work." I mean this, of course, in the best possible way. What I'm not telling you is that, thanks to the project they gave me, I will only be working 50 hours this coming week. Whoopee!!

**Chapter 17: Christmas**

"It's snowing."

That was Draco's first comment when he looked out the window that morning. Everyone in the dorm room immediately went to a window.

"Could be a big storm," Potter said cheerfully. "I'm glad I'm staying." He turned around with a laughing glance that took in everyone but Draco. "I hope the rest of you have a safe trip."

Without returning a comment himself, Draco went to his trunk and packed his clothes into his backpack. He grabbed his winter coat, hoping it would be warm enough, and headed for breakfast. Ron Weasley agreed to be his escort. Now he would not have to come back to Gryffindor for any reason.

The walk to breakfast was fun. Ron Weasley was bragging about his brother. Charlie Weasley worked in Romania, taking care of Dragons. The whole family was excited that he would be coming home this year. He was in such a good mood he gave Draco a Chocolate Frog. For one blond boy, it was a real treat.

Draco had heard Ron talk about Chocolate Frogs. Each frog came with a card representing a particular wizard or witch. Ron had every card in the set except for Agrippa and Circe, and the first candy he opened that morning left him only needing Agrippa. That was why he was also in a generous mood.

Draco laughed to himself. The chocolate was very good but he had to smirk when he saw the card. It was the only famous wizard he knew: Albus Dumbledore. He waved at the picture and the picture gave him a polite bow in acknowledgment. Then he turned it over to read the back.

"Hermione," Draco asked when he sat down. They were friends again because Gryffindor had won the match. "What's a Mugwump?"

"It's a fraternity, you know, like the Odd Fellows, but for wizards."

Draco nodded. It was just something to add to make the card more interesting. But he would make it a point to find out about the twelve uses of Dragon Blood that the man helped develop. "Hermione?"

She looked at the card he was holding. "Grindelwald was a dark wizard . . ."

"That wasn't what I was going to ask."

"Then the answer is no. I don't know who Nicholas Flamel is or all twelve uses for dragons' blood and I'm not planning on looking it up anytime in the near future." She tried to frown but there was a smile showing through. "With all the practices I've had, some of my projects are on hold."

Draco nodded. "I'll let you know what I find out."

Hermione looked at him curiously. "You're planning on looking it up today?"

"I wanted to say goodbye to Hagrid before I left. I thought I'd ask him. Remember that time he mentioned how he would love to have a Dragon?"

"I don't think I was there that day. I do remember him talking about trying to make friends with a hippogriff, and when he was talking about what a wonderful creature the Giant Squid was. I missed out on him wanting a Dragon."

"Must have been Justin then. I'm making a quick stop by his hut before I head for the train."

Hermione smiled. "A wonderful idea. Will you wait so I can get my things? I'll go with you."

Draco glanced at the teachers table. "That will give me time to say goodbye to someone else."

As Hermione left the Great Hall, Draco walked up to where Professor Snape was sitting.

"Sir?" His hands rested on the edge of the table.

"Draco? Anxious about the holiday?"

"Yeah. I'm going to some rich kid's house." He added dryly. "It'll be an adventure."

"If you like, I can talk to Crabbe or Goyle. It's not too late to spend Christmas with a wizarding family."

Draco half smiled at the thought of literally having a magic Christmas. On the other hand, it would be with Vincent or Greg. They were friendly enough, but they both had a slightly mean streak, to put it mildly. "I'll be fine."

The potions teacher reached over the table to grab Draco's hand. He gave it a warm squeeze to show the boy how much he cared for him. Not that he had to.

That one act reminded Draco of all the stories he had been told about his parents. The trips they took together. The house they lived in, a modest place in its time. And all the stories had the same point to make. Draco had been wanted. He had been loved. Without thinking, he rubbed his scar with his free hand.

"Is it bothering you?" Snape asked quickly.

"No." Draco's eyes felt wet. "I was remembering. My parents. They died the night I received this." He touched his forehead again.

"Those were troubled times," Snape admitted. "To think, they refused to put you in my care because of how close I was to Lily and Lucius. Even after I proved myself." In a snide voice, "How would it look? What would people think?"

"You wanted me?" Draco asked in surprise.

"Why wouldn't I? I could have given you everything. A good home. Obviously a good school. And magic is your heritage. You would have grown up learning how to live in a proper environment." He squeezed Draco's hand again. "That is why I cherish those extra lessons I give you. It is the only way I can spend time with you. To help you." Snape paused. "Before he died, Lucius Malfoy made me promise that, should anything happen to him, I would do my best to raise you to be a proper young man. I made that promise to your father. And I intend to keep it." "Yes, Sir." He gave a quick look around. "Could I ask you a question? About Professor Quirrell."

Draco felt Snape's hand stiffen slightly as the man said, "It would be best if you stayed away from Professor Quirrell."

Draco couldn't help but smile wryly. That remark confirmed his guess. "I saw him, that night, before I met the troll. He was going to the third floor. I thought . . . about Potter . . ."

Snape returned the smile. "You are the bright one. I had my suspicions. I met him on his way there. He said he came as a precaution. I can't prove anything, of course." He looked over Draco's shoulder. He looked back at Draco. The warm smile was still on his lips. "And Miss Granger is waiting at the entrance for you. I think you have time to make another short trip."

As Snape pulled his hand away, Draco grabbed it and gave it a squeeze of his own. As he let go, he said, "Merry Christmas, Professor."

* * *

"C'mon in," Hagrid bellowed. The door opened and Draco and Hermione walked in. Draco looked at the other person there.

"Justin?"

"Too excited to eat. Went out for a walk. Ended up here." Justin gave him a conspirator's smile. "I knew you'd show eventually."

"Tea?" Hagrid asked. "Ye still have time."

Draco nodded. Hermione simply sat down, commenting that it had been too long. At once the conversation turned toward Quidditch. Hagrid wanted to know the truth about Hermione's brilliant move. The girl blushed. She admitted that she had no idea what she was doing, She couldn't even see the snitch until it made its last turn and flew right past her face. "I didn't mean to run into the other seeker. But when I saw the snitch fly by my nose, I turned to look at it . . . and my movement caused the broom to fly faster. I overreacted when I pulled back on the broom . . . and went crashing into Cho Chang when she went to fly past me." She frowned at Draco. "You should never have gone through with your plan. We only won because of plain dumb luck."

Hagrid nodded. "We know. But we don' want the other teams to know that. Least of all, Slytherin." He wagged his huge finger at her. "An' don' you go tellin' anyone. Half the time, Quidditch is mental. If they think yer that good, they might not try as hard or, better yet, try too hard an' make mistakes, like Ravenclaw did."

Everyone had to laugh. Ravenclaw had the ignominy of fielding a player who didn't even know the rules of the game.

"Hermione," Draco admitted, "You should know. About the scheme. It didn't work."

"But she made the team," Hagrid pointed out.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "No one wanted the position. My evil plan didn't work because everyone already decided she would be the one to play."

"No one?" Hermione asked.

"I asked Fred and George. You know the best seekers are small and wiry. Potter fits the bill. So do Longbottom and me. And all three of us are banned from extracurricular activities. That leaves you, Dean Thomas, and that girl, Lavender Brown."

"But Lavender is horrible on a broom."

"Then that leaves you and Dean." Draco sighed. "And you're the one who took the extra broom lessons."

Hermione nodded her head. Then she smiled. "Don't let everyone else know about that. It will worry them more if they think I earned the position."

Justin caught her tone, and chimed in, "It was a brilliant move, that. You ran into her AND made it look like an accident."

Hermione smirked. "You've been listening to Ron."

That was when Draco decided it was time to ask. "Hagrid, I was curious. Who is Nicholas Flamel?"

Draco noticed Hagrid's look change to one of concern.

"Tha's a curious question," the giant said in an even tone.

"Yeah," Draco replied, "I read that he and Dumbledore were working on . . ."

Hagrid interrupted. "Ye don't need to know what them two are working on?"

Draco looked surprised, as did the other two children. "But it says right here on the back of this card . . ." He nervously pulled out the chocolate frog card to show him. "It says they found twelve uses for dragons' blood. I was wondering if he was a teacher or something."

Hagrid suddenly shut his mouth as his cheeks turned pink. "Oh, Dragon's Blood." He made it sound as though he suddenly remembered. "That was a while back. I thought you meant . . . never mind."

Justin's voice held excitement. "You mean they're working on something else?"

Draco grinned as Hagrid opened his mouth then closed it without saying a word. Finally Hagrid opened his mouth again. "It's all secret, ye know," he said carefully. His voice became a stage whisper. "An' it might be best if ye didn't say anythin'."

"Why would we do that?" Hermione asked. "Great wizards always have secret projects they work on. Anyone who's thought about it would already know that."

"Um, yeah, right," Hagrid said.

"How do you know that's true?" Draco asked.

Hermione smirked. "You were raised as a muggle. Scientists always have their research. They like doing research. It's why they're scientists. In this case the research is in magic. It's obvious once you think about it." She stood up and began putting on her gloves. "Thank you for the tea, Hagrid."

Draco and Justin stood up at Hermione's glare and thanked Hagrid as well.

"An' the three of ye have a great holiday," Hagrid demanded as he watched them walk back toward the castle and the waiting coaches.

"Whot?" Draco asked as they walked.

Hermione smiled at him. "You missed it completely?"

"Missed what?" Draco began to think out loud. "He was flustered by me asking about Nicholas Flamel . . . and he let on that Flamel and Dumbledore are working on something . . . and it's probably official business. What did I miss?"

Hermione's smile became a scowl. "Fine. You didn't miss anything."

"What's official business?" Justin asked.

Draco smiled. He knew what the conversation would be about once they were on the train.

* * *

Hermione almost laughed when Ron Weasley asked if she wanted to share his coach. It already consisted of him, his three brothers and Lee Jordan. There was room for one more. Ron Weasley had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. She was the perfect woman as far as he was concerned. She was smart. She practically did all his homework for him. AND she played Quidditch.

"That's inspiring, Ron," one of the twins told him, "You're in love with a girl because she does your homework."

"Hermione," the other twin asked, "are you smart enough to do mine as well? I could use a passing grade."

"We've got to hurry," Justin said as he came running back. "Ernie's saving two spots in his coach, but no one has three. We'll have to split up."

Draco looked up at one of the twins. He noticed something as he looked up, something that was different from the other twin but he couldn't quite place it. But then, he didn't have to. "George said Hermione can ride with them, as long as she does their homework."

Justin laughed. "I thought Professor Sprout told her to stop that?"

Hermione frowned. "I'm not doing anyone's homework except my own."

Draco pointed as he heard a noise from one of the other carriages. "Lavender Brown is waving. I think they have an extra space."

"I'll meet you on the train. I'll grab a compartment." Hermione ran off. Draco and Justin ran off in the other direction. Ernie MacMillan was holding the door open waving for them to hurry. He jumped in behind them and closed the door. Then waited five more minutes until the carriage began to move.

"Thanks," Draco said to Ernie, "for letting me ride with you."

"Jes' tryin' to figure you out," Seamus Finnigan said. "Yer supposed to be an evil wizard and ye jumped at the chance to spend a Christmas wi' muggles."

Draco blushed slightly. "I jumped at the chance to spend Christmas with somebody. Being evil may be fun but it's lonely work."

Susan Bones, sitting at the far end, laughed. "Draco Malfoy, you are perfect. You came here with the worst reputation possible and you have us laughing about it."

Draco tried to smile. They didn't act like this in Gryffindor. But the Hufflepuffs took him for face value. Some, like Ernie, had a negative opinion of him at first, but didn't let that stop him from learning if his opinion was correct. "They don't laugh in my house,"

he said, mostly to himself.

"Draco."

He looked up at Susan.

"You made friends with Justin. He's the last person we would have expected. Even Professor Sprout commented on it. He's muggle born for one."

"I was raised as a muggle," Draco pointed out.

Susan raised her finger to make a point. "Until Justin told us, no one in our house would have thought that. Or that you were raised as an orphan."

Draco was impressed. "You thought this all out?"

"Not me. But you were the discussion of more than one house meeting."

Draco was surprised. "Your house has meetings?"

Justin gave Draco a playful jab in the arm. "Face it. We know all about you. And you're always welcome until you prove we're wrong."

"I can do that," Draco offered. "What I'd like to know is why Justin decided he wanted me as his mate." Draco turned to Justin. "What I mean is, I grew up in the part of London that never makes the postcards. My second choice for a school was Saint Brutus. Yours was Eton."

"I've heard of Eton," Seamus Finnigan said. He paused. "Is Saint Brutus what I think it is?"

Draco nodded. "They don't call bedtime, 'lights out'. They call it, 'lock down'."

"What did you do?" Seamus asked. The question was on everyone face.

"Broke this bloke's nose while the teacher watched. Then kicked him when he went down. That's when they threw me out of my old school. I think it's because I kicked him."

"For one fight?" Ernie asked. "What happened to the other boy?"

"It weren't no fight," Draco admitted, "and it weren't the first time. I din't like him is all." He smiled at all the frowns. "Did I prove you wrong?"

"Yes," Ernie MacMillan said with a straight face. He moved to open the carriage door. "And now you'll have to walk the rest of the way to the station."

* * *

Draco was in for a surprise when he stepped onto the platform. Goyle was standing there, waiting for him.

"Hi, Greg. Happy Holidays."

"Snape told us to make sure you had a safe trip. Vince is saving two compartments for us."

Draco looked at Justin who was watching at him. The look of amusement had yet to leave Justin's face. Draco turned back to Greg. "Two."

"Yeah, we'll be next to you, with Blaise and Theodore, just in case."

"We'll tag along anyway," Susan said. "Maybe there's another empty compartment that we can take."

Draco was stunned. He looked at Justin who nodded at him. "You planned this?"

"Not the Slytherins." Justin's amusement faded. "Someone did try to kill you, Draco. You may act like it never happened, but we remember."

With wry amusement, Draco permitted himself to be escorted to his compartment by his six bodyguards. His amusement increased when they arrived. Vincent Crabbe was talking to a furious Hermione Granger. As the group walked up, he was saying, "I'll give you one Galleon per inch. I know you're worth it."

"I WON'T DO YOUR HOMEWORK! WHAT PART OF NO DIDN'T YOU UNDERSTAND?"

* * *

The train ride was enjoyable, despite knowing that everyone was watching out for him, or perhaps it was because of that. He had four Slytherins on one side and five Hufflepuffs on the other side. Justin and Hermione sat across from him in their compartment. The early part of the trip was spent with Justin being told all about the official business. After the trolley lady stopped by, the conversation turned to what Draco could expect at the Finch-Fletchley household. It was when his two friends began trading Christmas stories that Draco feigned being tired. He spent most of the remaining trip staring out the window and trying not to listen as unwanted memories wandered though his head.

* * *

The real trouble started when they arrived at Kings Cross. The instant Justin's parents looked at him, Draco could sense it. Disapproval. And he knew why. Mister Finch-Fletchley, dressed in his casual clothes, was better dressed than anyone else in the station. His wife was dressed in 'this old thing' which probably cost more than all the clothes Draco had ever owned. Justin's older brother was a junior version of his father. His younger sister matched her mother. And Draco? He was wearing his best shirt. The one where the collar was just starting to fray. And he was wearing his good socks, the ones without holes.

They were polite, of course. They asked him if he had everything and to tell them if he needed anything. Justin whispered that his family needed to get used to him. Draco nodded. He whispered back, asking Justin what he had told his parents. Justin's smile told Draco to worry.

The ride from London was entertaining, only if someone were watching. Any conversation centered on Justin and his experiences. Draco said yes when Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked if he also enjoyed going to school. It was the only question anyone asked him. When they arrived at the house outside Cambridge, he asked if he should use the servants' entrance. He was shown to his room and everyone excused themselves to discuss matters.

And now Draco was in a room that has a walk-in closet bigger than his old bedroom. All he could think to do was stare out the window at the rich houses all around. He had never been in a house as fancy as this. Draco guessed that it was bigger than the Home. There was a tapping at the door, which had been left open, and Draco turned around. It was Justin's eight-year-old sister. Her name was Jennifer.

"Jeff's trying to tell Dad that you're a thief."

Draco shrugged. "I gave that up to become a wizard. It's a lot more fun."

Jennifer nodded. For her, it was an acceptable answer. "Mum told me not to ask, but what happened to your good clothes?"

Draco deliberately tiptoed over to the little girl. He leaned over to whisper in her ear as though he was going to tell he a great secret. "I'm wearing them."

Jennifer whispered back, "Why don't you steal some new clothes?"

"Gave that up. Remember?"

"Can you magic them?"

Draco shook his head. Jennifer nodded again. She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room and down a long hall. She opened the last door on the right and pulled him inside. "This is my room."

Draco stared. His room was nice, with fancy furniture and all. But this room. It was neat and clean and messy all at the same time. A closet door was open. It was filled. Jennifer could probably wear a different outfit every day from what it looked like. It was definitely a girl's room, though. Pink trim and white paint with a slight hue. A lace coverlet on the bed. Stuffed animals and dolls lined the shelves that covered the walls.

One doll caught his eye. Draco couldn't help himself. He walked over and picked it up. Suddenly he was elsewhere. Another time, another place. Another Christmas. There had been enough food that day, the young boy could eat all he wanted. That had never happened before. Later, after he could move again, all the children were gathered in the front room where the Christmas tree was. A short plastic thing that took the place of a lamp. It had a red garland wrapped around it for decoration. An old thin man was standing next to the tree, dressed in a long robe. Janice told Draco that he was Father Christmas. She laughed when Draco just stared back. This Draco remembered other Christmases.

The old man stepped up to each child, wished him or her a happy holiday, and gave the child a package. He stood in front of the blond boy with the scar, wished him a happy holiday, and gave him a package. The man waited briefly until he realized the boy wasn't going to say anything, then went on to the next child.

Draco stood there. Janice whispered to him to open his present. Draco gave her an expectant look. She nodded. It really belonged to him. It was HIS present. Suddenly, Draco was all movement. The wrapping paper and bow were in shreds within seconds. And little Draco was staring at a box with a plastic window. And through the plastic window, looking back at him, was the very same doll.

"Oh, we gave him the wrong one," someone said, and a hand reached out to grab the box. Draco screamed. "NO . . . NOOOO." He hugged the box to him so that no one could take it from him. It was his. His very first present. He didn't care what it was. He wanted to keep it. He wanted to keep it with him always.

Jennifer was talking to him and Draco had no idea what she was saying. She had dozens of dolls like that. Every time she went on a trip with her parents, they would buy her one of those dolls with the appropriate costume. Draco nodded and carefully put the doll back in its proper place. He was smiling, and the smile wouldn't fade.

"Saw one when I was a kid," Draco told her. "Never knew they was all over."

"You're speaking funny," Jennifer pointed out.

"Funny? Naw, I only talk funny when I'm goofin' on people. I al'ays talk like this. Guess I shoun't if your folks are aroun'." He cleared his throat. "Would you rather I talk this way? I know your father would."

"You're funny," Jennifer decided. "Come on, it's time."

Draco never had the chance to ask time for what. He almost had to run to follow her. He followed her down the stairs and into the foyer. Justin, his brother Jeffrey and his mother were waiting next to a pair of sliding oak doors.

"What took you so long?" came the maternal question.

"Draco wanted to see my room."

A glance to the boy still on the stairs. "Did he really?"

"C"mon," Justin said. "It's time for the torture."

"Torture?" Draco asked. Everyone grinned at him.

"Ready?" came the question from behind the doors.

Draco jumped when everyone suddenly screamed, "YES."

The doors slid into the walls and out of the way. Mister Finch-Fletchley stepped aside so everyone could see. Draco was amazed. A Christmas tree stood almost to the top of the twelve foot ceiling. Strings of lights. Garlands. Ornaments. All dazzling in the shimmer of the flames from the fireplace across the room from it. Except for the tree and the fireplace there were no other lights in the room. As Draco stepped closer, he laughed. The garlands were made of popcorn. The other children were already walking around the tree peering between the branches as though a big hunt was on, but Draco had no energy to do that. This was the closest he had ever been to a real tree. He slowly walked up and then made it a point to look at everything. Small candy canes were hanging on the branches along with the ornaments. (He could eat those but not the popcorn.) And the ornaments were many and varied. There were different coloured balls, some with pictures on them. Figurines of various Christmas figures. Several angels, including the large one on top of the tree. And one ornament looked exactly like. . . Draco turned around, a puzzled look on his face.

"Missus?"

Justin's mother gave Draco an expectant look.

"I don't mean to be rude, but why is there a pickle on the tree?"

Three children of various ages groaned, while two adults laughed.

"It's not fair," Jennifer cried out. "He didn't even know."

"Fair is fair," came the fatherly admonition. "Draco was the first to find the pickle. He wins the prize." He held out a small wrapped box. "This would have been for Justin if he had won. It should work for you as well."

Draco couldn't hide his surprise or delight. The wrapping was torn away and the box thrown open. It was a wristwatch. "Um." he remembered his alarm clock. Electricity and magic did not mix.

Mister Finch-Fletchley understood. "I thought of that from what Justin told me. You have to remember to wind this watch."

"Great." He paused. "But why did Justin call this a torture?"

"Look under the tree. See all those presents. Some of them are for you." The man smiled as the boy he was talking to began to grin widely. "Look at them all you want. We open them on Christmas morning."

"But that's three days away?" Draco couldn't help but groan. It WAS going to be torture."

Someone tapped his shoulder. It was Jeffrey. "And Justin warned us about you. We don't want to catch you taking anything."

The admonitions to Jeffrey were already starting when Draco grabbed his hand.

"I promise. You won't see me take anything." Draco tugged the older boy's arm with both hands when Jeffrey tried to pull it away. "I mean it. You can watch me all you want, and you'll never see me even trying to take anything. I'm telling the truth." Draco let go and shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned to leave. "I'll be in my room. Thank you for the watch."

"I was joking," he heard Jeffrey say quickly. It was obvious that angry parents were staring at him. "I'm sorry. What can I do to make it up to you."

Draco stopped and slowly turned around. "Well?" He furrowed his brow as though trying to think of something. In a low voice he said, as he held up the watch on his wrist, "I need to set it. Could you tell me what time you have?"

"Sure." Somewhat surprised, Jeffrey pulled back his sleeve and looked at his wrist. Now he was somewhat more surprised. He looked up at Draco, and at Draco's arm.

"How? What? . . . You're wearing MY watch!"

"Didn't see me take it, did you?"

"Justin tried to warn us about you," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said with a hint of amusement. "Am I dealing with Oliver Twist or the Artful Dodger, Mister Malfoy?"

"I saw that movie. Ain't neither one, lady. I get by any way I can." Draco stood there briefly with his chest puffed out. Then he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Least I did. Still ain't used ta being honest an' all."

"All good things take time. My husband said that we may have been too hasty when we invited you, but I told him he was foolish." She stood up and walked over to Draco. Taking the watch off his hand, she gave it back to her son. In an action she had perfected with her own children, she stepped behind him and put a hand on each shoulder, gently kneading the muscles to force Draco to relax. As she did this, she said, "I think someone needs a cup of hot chocolate." As she gently pushed him toward the kitchen, she called back, "Does anyone want to join us?"

* * *

Jennifer licked the chocolate mustache off her lip as she looked at Draco. The boy had become her favorite person in the entire world. She wanted to know everything about him. As she dragged bits and pieces out of him, she finally had to ask. "Is this the first time you've ever been in a house like ours?"

"Oh, I been in houses like this before," Draco said casually, "Just never been invited."

* * *

Christmas morning.

Draco Malfoy was standing before the full length mirror. He was wearing a black suit, robins egg blue shirt, with a silk tie that was silver in color. These were easily the best clothes Draco had ever worn. Justin said he wore the suit only once before he outgrew it. And he told Draco that it wasn't a gift so much as a requirement. He had to be dressed in his finest for the trip to church.

That made Draco laugh. Him in a church. And willingly. It was almost a daydream. For that brief time he felt like he was a part of the family. And being introduced as a classmate of Justin's was fun. Especially when he returned the greeting. He didn't use his fancy voice.

"It is a pleasure to have you here today, Master Malfoy," the pastor's wife said courteously.

"T'anks lady. Sure is a fancy place. Don' think I've ever been in one o' these before."

In the silence, Jeffrey spoke up, "Draco says it is indeed a pleasure and one he is grateful for."

Justin, controlling a laugh, added, "He's learning English as a second language."

"Skive off," Draco said trying to sound annoyed. He smirked and turned to the embarrassed woman. He mimicked Jeffrey's Eton tone perfectly, "In proper English, let me give my thanks to you and your husband."

The pastor's wife looked at the parents. The father said, "Londoners", and shrugged his shoulders.

The smile returned. They passed on and tried again with a few of their friends. Those with children seemed to understand completely. One mother of four even began a tongue twister contest with Draco, just to listen to his accent.

In church, he was an angel.

Everyone was surprised.

They walked home and hurried inside. Inside meant to the parlor, with the fireplace burning merrily in a few short minutes and the Christmas tree lights trying to make the flames look dim by comparison. And underneath the tree were the presents.

"That's odd," Mister Finch-Fetchley said as he leaned down to look at one of the packages. "Justin? Do you know an Ernie MacMillan?"

"You met him, father, at the train station. The stocky boy with brown hair."

With surprise he handed Justin the package. "He sent you a gift."

"He was telling the truth!" Justin exclaimed. Then he explained. Christmas trees are common in the wizarding world as well. As is gift giving. If possible, gifts are sent to that person's tree. "That mean's he received mine as well."

Justin opened the package and laughed. He opened the box of candy inside and offered his brother a jelly bean. Jeffrey took one, put it in his mouth, then spit it out. He thought it was licorice. It was tar. Justin showed everyone the label: Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans.

Draco tried a yellow one. It was acorn squash.

Gifts were handed out. Draco received a pair of gloves and a black turtleneck sweater from his hosts. And a book on Fantastic Creatures from Hermione Granger. Hagrid sent him a box of cookies. (He offered one to Jeffrey who, seeing his brother's smirk, wisely refused.) Another gift was also a book. Alacour Sim and the Darkest of Nights. It was a mystery story, he found out as he read. A boy, ten years of age, unravels a plot by the dark forces and saves wizarding London. Madam Pomfrey remembered her promise.

There was one last gift, or rather it was two gifts. A handful of sugar mice and chocolate frogs, for the sweet tooth the card said. And with it was a pair of frames, hinged together. One held a picture of two people and a one year old baby, him and his parents. The other picture was the same one-year-old Draco being held by a much younger looking Severus Snape. Baby Draco was laughing.


	18. Return

A/N: Mandraco asked if I had heard about School Daze where there is a character named Pickles who earned the nickname by hanging pickles on the Christmas tree. I had not, but I did think it appropriate to mention the story behind the Christmas Pickle, which dates from the Victorian era. According to the legend, during medieval times two boys stopped at an inn for the night. (Different reasons are given.) The innkeeper, being a cruel man, robbed and killed the boys then stuffed their bodies into a pickle barrel. Later that night, Saint Nicholas happened by the inn and discovered what happened. He tapped his staff on the barrel and the two boys were miraculously restored. The glass pickle ornament is a reminder of this event.

Traditionally, the first adult to spot the ornament has good luck for the rest of the year. The first child receives an extra gift for being so observant. (In Draco's case, a wristwatch.)

Kanui d'Astor also mentioned being confuded as to why Sirius told Harry he was in danger. I pointed out that he said Neville was in danger too, and that the reason should be obvious if you remember canon. I also offered to give another hint. I feel it only fair to extend this offer to everyone else who is reading the story. I mean, to me it is obvious but I am the author. I know why Sirius said that.

Also, a belated Happy Birthday to Artemis-Chan of Redwing and a note that Charlie is once again working with Dragons. Thanks for spotting the error.

On a serious note, a general warning about Fundamentalists. These are the people who take the bible literally. They believe the universe began 6,000 years ago, all magic is the work of the devil and therefore Harry Potter is evil (For the younger readers, Pokemon is also evil) and, on some cases, that dinosaurs lived 3,000 years ago. As funny as this may sound, these people know they are right and, therefore, anything you say that disagrees with their beliefs is obviously wrong, therefore they don't even have to bother arguing.

I point this out because there are groups that actively attempt to convert others, and within these groups are those who target children. To make matters worse, they operate as family units so that even their children are involved in the conversion efforts. I'm pointing this out because such a group was recently uncovered in my area. The second reason is that I was a victim of a similar group when I was six, and the incident recalled unwanted memories. I still remember with chills the threats that Satan would drag me and my parents directly to hell if I told them before I was prepared to help them. After all, they explained, God had sent them personally to save me first. For a six year old, that was one heckuva carrot and stick approach.

By the way, I never told my parents because I really believed what my new friend's parents told me. Instead, I went to the parish priest. Let me just say that the proverbial excrement made forceful contact with the rotating cooling device at that point.

I hope there is no need to tell anyone about this, but it is important to remind people, especially parents. On the other hand, I've just given all of you one more thing to worry about.

**Chapter 18: Return**

Draco would be the first to admit that he had a wonderful time. There were a few close calls. Particularly when the bedroom door opened just as Draco was saying, "I could feel you lifting the wallet. Try it again and remember to . . . Oh hello, Missus F. Missus Finch-Fletchley did not approve of her daughter learning how to pick pockets, even though (perhaps the phrase should be 'especially because') Jennifer said he was an excellent teacher. It did not help that Justin agreed.

Draco had his first father to son chat that night. At least it felt like that. He was lectured to about certain moral habits. Then he was given a chance to explain himself. That was followed by serious questioning. By this point, Draco had already related most of the events prior to going to Hogwarts. That included Mick putting his name up and the promise to McGonagall.

At the end of the discussion, Draco promised not to show off any more of his skills.

* * *

It was the reverse of the train to London. Crabbe and Goyle met Draco at the platform. Blaise Zabini was with them as was a boy with weedy hair, Theodore Nott, and his older brother, a third year Slytherin, Simon Nott. Draco and Simon simply nodded at each other when introduced. Then he and Justin were escorted to an empty compartment. The Slytherins took the compartment next to them, Nott's brother leaving to find his own classmates. Draco stepped out to peek into the compartment on the other side. Susan Bones saw him and waved. Draco waved back with an embarrassed smile and went back to sit with Justin.

Hermione found them a few minutes before the train was to leave. She had an annoyed look on her face. Ron Weasley was following her and trying to apologize. He stopped the door from closing and said, "I was only making a suggestion. It wasn't an insult."

"Should I ask?" Draco asked.

"NO." That was Hermione.

"Even though it's about Quidditch." That was Justin.

"I'll just leave. Forget I ever said anything." That was Ron.

Unlike the trip to London, Draco had a better time going back. He mollified Hermione by telling her that all Ron's idea were stupid. Then the talk turned to presents. This time Draco had something to talk about. The trolley lady came by and left. Then someone knocked on the compartment door before opening it. Draco looked up with only mild surprise. It was Potter. Longbottom was with him.

"Excuse me, Hermione."

"Harry?"

The way Hermione said Potter's name even sent a chill up Draco's spine. It took no genius to know it had something to do with what Ron Weasley had been apologizing about. Potter hesitated but Longbottom whispered something to urge him on.

"I wanted to ask you a favour." Potter said that so quickly it was amazing that anyone could understand the words. But it worked. Hermione paused. Instead of shouting, she asked her question with a touch of surprise. And plenty of suspicion.

"What favour?"

Potter took a deep breath. This was obviously something he wanted. "All right. Straight out with it. Will you please let me coach you?"

"Please?" The surprise was growing in Hermione's voice.

"I know you hated Ron's suggestion. I even told him he was barmy to make it. But . . . Well, you know how I love to fly. I'd give anything to be on a broom. And I really could help. My father taught me a lot of the nuances of the game."

"Nuances?" Draco asked.

"Subtleties," Potter explained despite his annoyance at being interrupted.

Hermione smirked at Draco's frown. "Those clever little things you do to show that you really know what you're doing."

"Oh, tricks," Draco said with a satisfied air.

"Will you consider it?" Potter asked Hermione. "It would really mean a lot."

"It helps all of us," Longbottom said. "Even the slightest improvement makes us that much better. And it could make the difference if Slytherin is as good as they were last year."

"And the year before," Potter added.

Hermione nodded at that. Even Draco knew that Slytherin had won the house cup seven years in a row. It was Professor Snape's proudest achievement.

Justin spoke up. "If it will help you beat Slytherin. I'm all for it. It improves Hufflepuff's chances to take the cup."

Draco smirked at the frowns Justin was receiving. He noticed Hermione was wavering, so he said, "I think it's a great idea."

"What?" Potter looked at him in complete surprise.

"Yeah," Draco told him. "It's the same as when I asked Dumbledore if he could give you the exemption to play. I gave him the same reason Longbottom gave Hermione." He ignored the stares everyone else was giving Potter. "It would help our house." He turned to Justin. "'course 'e let 'is temper get the better of 'im an' ruined it."

"I was provoked," Potter said with a touch of anger.

"And quite easily," Draco noted with a grin.

"STOP." That was Hermione. "If the two of you continue talking to each other, we'll all end up with detention." She glared at Draco until he held his hands up in surrender. "Fine. Now that we settled that problem, I don't see any problem with trying to solve yours." She was looking at Potter again.

"Great! I'll ask McGonagall when we get back."

"I'LL ask McGonagall. Based on your past record, you're more likely to be thrown out of school than get her to agree." When Potter remained standing there, she had to ask why.

"It's Wood. He wants to have a team meeting before we get back. He told me to tell anyone I saw."

"We?"

"You, actually. But I thought I'd, you know, tag along in case things worked out."

"Oh?"

Longbottom interrupted. "He would have told you first off, but we ran into Ron on the way."

"Oh."

And then they were gone.

"So," Justin said after a short pause, "does he know exactly how good Hermione is on a broom?"

Draco smiled. "Not at all." Potter was going to hate him even more once he found out.

* * *

"I'm curious," Draco asked Hermione when they met in the Great Hall for the welcome back feast. "How is it that Potter and Longbottom were on the train when they spent the holiday at Hogwarts?"

Hermione smiled as she gave the two boys in question a quick glance. "I ask Harry. He said they were invited to a New Year's party at the Ministry." Her voice became haughty. "My father's a very important person, you know."

"I didn't know that," Draco admitted without showing any sarcasm. Hermione laughed anyway.

* * *

It was after hours. Everyone was supposed to be in bed. Draco listened to make sure that no one else was awake. He slipped out of bed and dressed quickly in jeans and his new black turtleneck. Then he opened his trunk, pulling out a rolled up cloth. Weighing it heavily in his hand, he put it in his back pocket.

He barely made a sound as he left the room. Seeing the common room was empty, he walked briskly to the entrance and out into the corridor. Draco was now officially breaking the school rules.

It was something he had considered carefully. That there was something hidden in the school was obvious. That it was in the third floor corridor was also obvious. Slightly less obvious was what and why? But Draco knew a secret. The senior Defense Professor, according to Professor Black, had made a mistake with the troll, yet Draco had seen him heading toward the third floor corridor. And the boy wanted to know what was there.

It took him longer than he expected, but Draco met no one on the way. He found the correct corridor and began walking down it. Each door along the way was unlocked and led to an empty room or closet. It was no surprise that the door at the end of the hall was the only one that was locked.

Draco pulled the cloth out of his back pocket. He knelt in front of the door, at first trying to peer through the keyhole. He leaned back on his haunches and lay the cloth in front of him. Then he unrolled it. When he was done he had before him a set of tools that would make any self respecting cat burglar proud. He looked at the keyhole. Without taking his eyes off the lock he reached down and took one of the larger allen wrenches. With care, he inserted the wrench into the keyhole and began to prod the mechanism inside.

"There's a spell that can do that," the whispered voice said from behind him.

"They can test your wand, Fred," Draco whispered in return.

"Should have known," Fred answered from over his other shoulder. "Too bad you still can't tell us apart."

Draco turned his head. "Could I have some quiet, please. I'm trying to pick the lock."

"And why would ickle Draco want to do that?"

Draco frowned. "I want to know what's on the other side."

"Good point."

All three remained silent. There was an audible click. Draco tried the door. It was opening. More importantly, it wasn't squeaking. When it was opened just enough, three pairs of eyes looked in. After a minute, Fred tapped Draco on the shoulder. Draco understood. He closed the door. Then he used his skills to lock it again.

George was the first to speak. "That was a big dog."

"Big?" Draco asked. "That thing was . . . huge."

"It has to be huge to support three heads," Fred noted.

"I'm just glad it was asleep," Draco said as he put the wrench back in its sleeve and rolled up the cloth.

* * *

The twins were very good at sneaking around. It was obvious they had done so on numerous occasions. They seemed to know the routines of everyone who patrolled the corridors. Faster than it took Draco to get there, he was back in the common room and sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. Fred and George were on either side of him.

"And now, ickle Draco, why did you want to see what was behind that door."

"Won't tell?"

"Promise," said two voices.

"The night the troll escaped. I saw Professor Quirrell go to that corridor. The accident with the troll. I don't think it was an accident. I think he did it deliberately."

Fred was grinning. "You think he was trying to steal whatever was hidden in there?"

George's grin matched his brother's. "Or should we say whatever was hidden under there?"

"Under?"

"You were kneeling. We were standing. That dog's heads were inches away from a trap door."

Draco nodded thoughtfully

"And you're interested in all of this because?"

Draco sighed. Then he told them about what Hagrid said about Nicholas Flamel. Fred and George smiled when Hagrid's name was mentioned.

* * *

Draco trudged through the snow for his usual Friday visit. Hermione was plodding along next to him. It was with little surprise that Justin was there already. It had become a routine. Though Hermione could not guarantee coming every week. Oliver Wood constantly talked about practice. If he could have his way, no one on the team would waste time by taking classes anymore.

"An' how was yer Christmas."

"Great," Draco said as he gratefully reached for the mug of hot tea. "Somebody sent me some biscuits and I passed them around. Justin's brother liked them just as much as Justin does." Hagrid smiled at that. He never noticed that Justin's biscuits never made it into his mouth but usually ended up in a pocket or two.

"I'll add ye to my list fer next year," the giant told the Hufflepuff boy who gave a weak thank you in return. Later, Justin told Draco he would get his revenge.

* * *

It was just before lunch the next day that Draco was given the note. Professor Snape wanted to see him afterwards. It was fine as far as Hermione was concerned. She had been to an early practice and was already tired. Potter, who was jubilant at breakfast, was also frowning. That put Draco in an even better mood.

When lunch was over, the Potions Professor escorted him to his office in the dungeons. Along the way, Draco thanked him for the pictures. Professor Snape informed him that they were taken on his first birthday. Draco felt a fatherly hand on his shoulder, looked up and smiled. Snape gave a grim smile in return.

"You're going to feel differently about me very soon. I'm going to give you your first lesson."

He opened the door to the office and ushered Draco inside. The door was closed and locked. Snape waved his wand and uttered a spell. Draco recognized it. It was a silencing spell. No one would eavesdrop.

"Now," Snape said sternly, "You will have to learn to concentrate on what you are doing. In time, it will become second nature to you. For now, you will find it to be a constant headache." He held up his hand when Draco smirked. "I meant that literally, young man. In order for you to learn, I'm going to have to keep prodding you."

Draco swallowed hard. He knew what the teacher meant. Not simple touches. Something more akin to deliberately poking an open sore. But he knew it was something he needed to learn. Headaches were small things compared to the pain if someone tried to read his innermost thoughts. He returned Snape's look and nodded. He was ready to begin.

It was more than a soft tingle. Barely enough to hurt. He tried to concentrate despite the pain. A shield. I need a shield, he thought. Snape had taught him several shielding spells, although he did not have the skill to use any of them successfully. He ignored the physical ones, such as the fire shield he had performed once. "Protego," he said at one point. The pain eased, but not because of the spell.

"Draco, this is a mind shield. Uttering words will not help. Examine the common factor in the spells and try to invoke that without using words."

The pain returned. Draco tried to imagine a shield. He tried to think the words. Nothing worked. When he sighed, the pain stopped. The Professor walked over to his desk and picked up a flask. He poured some of the contents, a clear liquid, into a glass then handed the glass to Draco.

Draco sniffed at the glass but couldn't smell anything. "What kind of potion is this?"

"It's water. It will help you more than any potion."

When Draco began to drink, he noticed for the first time how dry his mouth was. He drained the glass and handed it back. Snape asked him if he was ready to try again. Draco nodded.

* * *

"I'm feeling better," Hermione said at supper. "All I needed was a nap. Harry's really good at flying. He's already taught me a few things. I'll need to practice them, of course, but now I feel as if I really know what I'm doing." She paused. "What's wrong with you?"

Draco looked up, wishing his head would stop throbbing. "I have a headache. I think I did too much homework."

"That's a lie. I know you did all your homework last night."

"This was special. I was with Professor Snape all afternoon."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "What did he teach you?"

Draco sighed. "Nothing. You should ask what he tried to teach me. I'm trying to learn a shielding spell."

Hermione nodded. "Which one?"

"Any one," came the droll reply. "I swear, Hermione, I couldn't do a shielding spell even if someone did it for me."

"You'll learn. Harry told me that Professor Snape knows his Defense spells. It's almost as good as having Professor Black tutor you."

"When you put it like that, Hermione, it's even better then having Professor Black tutor me."

Draco smiled. Achieving that simple feat made him feel better. By the time he finished eating his meal, his headache was almost gone. He forgot about it completely when the desserts appeared.

* * *

Time passed but some things remained the same. At least once a week, Draco went to supper with a headache. Almost daily, Hermione talked about how much she was learning about Quidditch. Just as often, Potter was muttering to Longbottom about something. Ron Weasley, sitting in on a few of these conversations, was not as taken with Hermione as he had been. Hermione did not know why Weasley wasn't pestering her as much, but she appreciated it.

Some things did happen. There were a couple of Quidditch games. Ravenclaw beat Slytherin. Then Slytherin beat Hufflepuff. Draco, sitting with Justin for that game, remembered not to cheer for Professor Snape's team. One other thing happened that was unusual. Near to the end of April, Justin Finch-Fletchley appeared at the entrance to Gryffindor's common room. When Draco appeared, Justin reminded him that they were supposed to go to the library together. As that was the one place the two of them never went to, together, unless they were with Hermione (which, because of Quidditch practice, was becoming a rare event), Draco knew that something had happened.

"Did you do your assignment for Professor Binns?" Justin was smiling.

"The biography of a famous wizard? Yeah, I picked Dumbledore."

Justin's grin became wider. "I picked Nicholas Flamel. I'm surprised you didn't."

"Started to. Couldn't find anything. Came up with tons of stuff about Dumbledore, though."

"In Hufflepuff, if anyone has a problem, all he has to do is ask for help. I asked. Helen Slocum, she's in her fifth year, found a book for me that mentioned him. It's on hold in the library."

Draco grinned. It was clear that his friend had already read the book, at least the part about Flamel. As soon as possible, Draco was in the library reading the page that he was shown.

He stopped and looked up.

"He's the only known possessor of a Philosophers Stone?"

"Read what it says. The Philosophers Stone can turn any metal into gold. And it can be used to prepare the Elixer of Life." Justin paused for effect. "Immortality!"

Draco stared at the page. He read the next line with awe. "He celebrated his 665th birthday last year." He looked up. "Remember what I told you about Quirrell? I think we know what he's after. We have to talk to Hagrid."

Justin agreed. "Tomorrow's Friday. We'll ask him over tea."

* * *

Justin and Hermione flanked Draco as they knocked on the door to Hagrid's hut. Then they knocked again. Draco was about to knock a third time when the door quickly opened. A blast of hot air hit all three of them. Hagrid was standing there wearing an apron and oven mitts.

"Oh, sorry. I'm a bit busy at the moment," Hagrid said anxiously. "Can ye come back tomorrow maybe?"

A rattling noise was heard from inside and Hagrid disappeared from the doorway. All three students leaned in to see Hagrid standing over a large kettle. He looked back and saw the six eyes staring at him. "Well, come in quick an' close the door."

A minute later, the three were inside and standing around the table while Hagrid placed a large egg in the middle of it.

"Is that . . .?" Hermione asked.

"A Dragon's Egg," Hagrid said proudly.

"THAT'S why you were in the library this morning. You were looking for books on Dragons. And raising dragons is against the law, in case you didn't know." Hermione's look was filled with smugness. "Is it hatching?"

"Any minute," Hagrid said happily.

Justin looked at Draco. "A dragon?" Draco shrugged his shoulders. There was a sharp noise and boy boys turned back to the egg. A shard broke off. A large crack was getting larger. A scaly head poked out as a shard fell away.

"Tha's a Norwegian Ridgeback," Hagrid said with pride. "They're rare, ye know."

"Hagrid," Draco asked incredulously, "how . . ."

"Won 'em of this bloke last night in a card game at the Hogshead. An' I read up on what to do. Feed 'em a bucket o' brandy mixed wit' chicken's blood every half hour . . ." He paused as the dragonet freed itself from the last of the shell. It looked at the giant, gave a cough that contained a whiff of smoke and proceeded to fan its wings as though to test them out.

"Isn't he cute," Hagrid said with glee. "I'm naming him Norbert."

Hermione laughed in delight as she watched the young dragon on the table, but Draco had other thoughts. He eyed Hagrid's boarhound, Fang, who was rolled up in the corner sleeping through the entire thing.

"Hagrid, do you have any other pets?"

The giant paused. "Sure. Not that I keep them all aroun' here. Why'd ye ask."

"I saw a three headed dog a while back . . ."

Hagrid managed to look away from the dragon. "Ye saw Fluffy?"

"Who's Fluffy?" Justin asked. He didn't look away from the dragon.

Draco was amazed. "Hagrid? Did you really give a giant three-headed Rottweiler the name of . . . Fluffy?"

"He's such a playful thing once ye get to know him. The name fits 'im perfect." Hagrid went to pet the baby dragon. "Ain't that right, Norbert?"

"Where did you see, um, Fluffy?" Hermione asked.

"Yer not supposed to go there," Hagrid admonished. "If anyone finds out . . ."

"You went to the third floor," Hermione accused.

"I was curious," Draco admitted. He did not mention that he wasn't alone. But he did decide to take a chance and trust his friends. "Do you remember Halloween Night, Hermione. Before I ran into the troll, I saw Professor Quirrell. He was hurrying toward the third floor. I think he deliberately let the troll in. To create a distraction."

"Now don' you say that," Hagrid said angrily. "Professor Quirrell is a teacher. Even if he ain't the bravest man. But yer just shy of accusin' him of tryin' to steal the . . . uh, never mind."

"The Philosopher's Stone?" Justin offered.

"How'd ye find out about that?"

"Justin wrote his history paper on Nicholas Flamel," Draco explained. "And I think Professor Quirrell is trying to steal it."

"Tha's rubbish. The Professor ain't the type, an' if he was, Dumbledore would never o' hired him."

That was the end of the conversation. A few soft words and a careful comment about the dragon brought Hagrid's cheerful mood back. But Draco was concerned. Hagrid liked dangerous animals the way children liked ice cream. And now he had a baby dragon. His first thought was to find out how quickly dragons grew. His second thought was how could they keep it a secret.

He also had a third thought. It was a small thing but it would not go away. When it finally came to its full form it was a very simple thought. He mentioned it to Hermione and Justin on the way back to the castle.

"I'm going to nick it."

"Nick it?" Justin asked, "as in steal?"

"Don't be stupid," Hermione councilled. "If you're right about Quirrell, which you aren't, he would have a better chance than you. And according to you, he already failed."

"It's a dog," Draco explained. "A big dog, but it's still a dog. Hagrid must have trained him. All I have to do is get him to tell me how to get past . . ." Draco couldn't help but smile, " . . . Fluffy."

"What about the troll?" Hermione countered. "If Quirrell brought the troll in, he had to have a reason. I think it's obvious. Even if you get past Fluffy you still have to face the troll, and whatever other traps there may be. You can't do it."

Justin was smiling. "Draco, have you ever made it past a troll before?"

"Once. Almost made it a second time. I'd wager I could do it again on a third try."

"I'm in."

"Boys," Hermione muttered. "I'm not." She paused. "I have practice." A sigh. "It would be fun trying, though."


	19. Norbert

A/N: I must apologize to the early readers of the previous chapter. Ouatic-7 pointed out that I had Harry and Neville on the train when they stayed at the school. Later readers read a hastily cobbed paragraph about going to a party in London. Sorry to anyone who tripped on the plothole.

Also, Artemis-Chan (of Redwing) did ask about the reason Harry would be In Danger. It's not so much that his dad is an important person, but it is related to the fact that Draco was born on August the First. (I love giving cryptic clues. I'm just not very good at it.)

Again, my thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. And I can assure Young Prewitt that any questions about who goes after the stone will be answered in the next chapter.

**Chapter 19: Norbert**

"George?"

The red-haired boy gave Draco a wide grin. "Do you need an escort? Fred and me were just heading to the Great Hall for dinner."

"Um, yeah," Draco said carefully. "Can we take the long way?"

The wide grin widened. George looked up at Fred who was coming down the stairs into the common room. Fred arched an eyebrow slightly but otherwise gave no sign of anything unusual. George grabbed Draco and ushered him outside. Still holding him, the twins turned right, went up the next staircase, turned left at the first hallway, took the second right, then opened a door halfway down the corridor. It was a storage room filled with old desks and a few odds and ends.

"What?" Fred asked.

"I need a favour."

"Which is?" George asked in turn.

"Just before Christmas, your brother Ron said you had another brother who raises dragons."

"That would be Charlie."

"And he works with dragons. In Romania."

"It is a dragon preserve. Did you want a dragon?"

Draco tried to smile but couldn't. "Already got one, thanks. I'm trying to get rid of it."

Fred and George stopped. That was the best word to describe what they did. Draco had clearly managed to surprise them. After a few seconds, they started again.

"Why do we have the feeling Hagrid is involved?"

"Not hard to figure, though. If it's dangerous, Hagrid would want one."

"So. Are we correct?"

Draco nodded.

"And how long have you had this dragon?"

"It hatched a week before Friday last."

"It's not that big then," George added, then saw Draco's reaction. "How big is it?"

"Do you know Fang? Hagrid's boarhound."

Fred and George nodded. "We'll owl Charlie right away."

Draco nodded. "I'm scared about what might happen. What with Justin in the infirmary. I mean, Hagrid said it was safe to pet him."

Draco remembered. He extended his hand to touch the dragon just above the wing ridge. Justin saw the dragon move its head and grabbed Draco's hand. Thus, his hand was scratched instead.

"When did that happen?" Fred's voice held concern.

"Last night. Hermione and I made him go to Madam Pomfrey right away. Hermione read that they're poisonous. The claws, that is. He already had a fever when we got him there. At least Madam Pomfrey said he did. I don't know what to do."

"Leave it to us," Fred told him cheerfully. "We'll visit Hagrid at once to discuss the matter."

"Have to know what we're dealing with," George assured him.

Draco sighed with relief as the twins left. That was one problem on its way to being solved.

* * *

Professor Snape glowered at his young student. The boy had never been this useless in his defenses. He gave a gentle push into Draco's mind but kept himself alert in case he could discover anything that might be the cause.

"Draco, why are you thinking about dragons? It's the only coherent thought coming from you today."

Draco startled. "Sir?"

"I hardly touched your mind when the thought of dragons almost leaped out at me. I've never obtained so clear a thought from you before. Why such a sudden concern?" Professor Snape's look told Draco that he demanded a coherent answer. The boy did the only thing he could think of: lie through his teeth.

"It's the dragon we found, Justin an' me that is. It come ramblin' out of the forest while we was 'eading to 'agrids. Just a babe, ya know, t'ought it coun't do no harm. It jus' nipped at 'im."

Snape's eyes widened. "The reason Justin Finch-Fletchley is in the infirmary was because he was bitten by a dragonet?"

"Um, yeah."

A stern voice. "You explained this to Madam Pomfrey, of course."

"Uh . . . no."

"You didn't think such valuable information would be useful in saving your friend's life? Or do you care so little about your friends?"

"We din't want to get 'agrid inta trouble." Knowing he had just said the wrong thing, Draco tried to cover his mistake. "He took the dragon so we woun't get in trouble. Can't 'ave one. It's the law."

"Hagrid has the dragon?" Snape rolled his eyes. "Incredible." He glared at Draco. "Why do you think you would have been in trouble because you found a dragon? And why do you think Hagrid won't get into trouble for the same thing? AND PLEASE STOP SHAKING LIKE A LEAF. It makes your lies less believable."

It worked. Snape's remark calmed Draco for a reason he could not explain.

"Sorry, Sir. It's just that Justin and I shouldn't have approached the dragon. And with Justin getting hurt it would make us look even worse."

"Calm is good," Snape pointed out. "At least now you're making sense. And why is Hagrid keeping the dragon."

"It's a Norwegian Ridgeback, Sir." Draco smiled. He knew where the rest of his tale was going. And the beauty of his lie was that most of it was the truth. "He was afraid it might get hurt, or even killed, it's so young. So he's keeping it in his hut and he doesn't want anyone to know because, well, if everyone knew he had a dragon they'd all want a look. And Justin might end up with company."

Snape nodded. "That is very thoughtful. And how long does he think he can keep it a secret?"

"Until Saturday. Hagrid had me ask Fred and George Weasley to owl their brother, he works at a dragon preserve in Roumania. An escort is going to fly in and pick up the dragon." Draco leaned in as though what he was saying was important. "That was Hermione's idea. Fred and George, that is. Since they're involved, their brother would be more likely to help. Family pride and all."

Snape's look let Draco know that the man did not think that the words pride and Weasley would ever belong in the same sentence.

"And Hagrid agreed to this? Your story would make more sense if he tried to keep it as a pet."

"Well, yeah, but we came up with this bit early on. And since then . . ."

"And since then?" came the verbal prod.

"Um, well, he's named it Norbert . . . and he gave him a teddy bear."

Draco thanked himself that Hagrid really had given the dragon a teddy bear. That gave the story undeniable plausibility. Draco tried to smile. The professor was still shaking his head.

"In all of this, Draco, is there any reason why no one in authority was told. It is obvious from what you have said that even Dumbledore was not informed."

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "It's a dragon, Sir. And even if it's only for a few days . . . it's still a dragon. Even Justin agreed. He didn't think he'd be in the infirmary this long."

Snape thought briefly. He went to a cabinet and pulled out a vial after a short search. The vial disappeared inside his robes.

"I'll escort you back to your common room. After that, I will pay Madam Pomfrey a visit. I will make up some likely excuse and give her a potion I have for poisonous lizards. A small dragon should qualify. Then, I will pay a visit to the groundskeeper."

Draco smirked. Even Professor Snape wanted to see the dragon.

* * *

Draco walked into the common room to the glares of several students. After all this time, he was still tolerated. Hermione had said that was the best word. Draco didn't care. The only problem was that he had nothing to do. He went to his dorm and lay down on his bed. At least he was alone. He remained alone for almost five minutes.

The door opened. The twins walked in, followed by Hermione.

"There he is. What happened? You're back early from the dungeons." Fred had a serious look on his face.

George didn't. "We couldn't help notice that everyone's favorite teacher brought you back personally, then ran off toward the infirmary, where the weak link in our conspiracy is lying in bed."

"Naw," Draco said morosely. "He's here, lying in this bed. I ended up telling Snape everything."

The next few minutes were spent with Draco telling everyone what he had said. Hermione grumbled while the twins laughed.

"It's not funny," she insisted.

"It's hilarious," Fred corrected. "Snape is going to help us."

"Why is that hilarious?" Hermione asked. Her tone said there was no good reason.

"Isn't it obvious?" George told her. "Except for Draco, Snape would never do anything to help Gryffindors. And now he'll make sure we don't get into trouble."

* * *

Professor Snape was glaring at Hagrid. The giant was bent over the crate whispering goodbye and gently placing the teddy bear next to the dragon's head. With tears in his eyes, Hagrid put the lid on the crate and fastened it down. Draco was not the only one who was relieved. Norbert was already over seven foot from snout to tail, and weighed almost as much as the Potions Professor.

"He'll be fine, now," Hagrid told everyone. "His teddy will keep him calm."

As the sound of fabric being ripped apart came from inside the crate, Draco's first thought was that the teddy would keep it fed. He walked up and took the front right pole attached to the crate. Hermione was across from him and the twins behind. They lifted the crate with difficulty.

Professor Snape waved his wand, casting a silencing spell on the dragon. He then led the way from behind Hagrid's hut back to the castle. They only had the pale light of the waning moon to guide them. When the group reached the school, they realized they had finished the easy part of the task. Now they had to carry the dragon up a score of staircases to the top of the astronomy tower.

There was only one close call. Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, came upon them. Snape made everyone stop while he approached the cat. Draco never asked why the cat reacted the way it did, but it bolted before the professor had taken three steps. After that it was climb this staircase, that staircase, the other staircase until, finally, they reached the top of the tower.

"Worried about ye," an oriental man said in a Welsh accent. "An' would this be the wee bairn?"

"My, My," Snape muttered. "Wit seems to abound everywhere." Then he spoke more directly to the four men holding broomsticks. "Will you have any problems?"

"Only keeping a straight face," one of the others said. "Charlie talked us into a good one, this time. Sneaking a dragon OUT of Hogwarts."

Snape gave a cruel smile. "I hope you're better at this than at making cleansing potions."

"Uh, yeah, well that was an accident." The man was still smiling.

Everyone watched as the four broomriders lifted the box and placed it in the middle of what looked like a net. Each grabbed a corner as they mounted their brooms. They gave everyone a quick goodbye and rose up in unison, Norbert's crate resting easily in the net. Without a sound, they flew away, heading east.

"Thanks, Professor," Draco said as they began their walk downward.

"Don't mention it, Draco. EVER."

The walk back to Gryffindor was almost anticlimactic. Almost.

Professor Snape used the time to berate everyone (except Draco) for becoming involved in such a scheme. Professor Snape blamed Draco for getting him involved in such a scheme. He also made thinly veiled threats that the Weasley twins had better become commendable students or else.

Then McGonagall walked around the corner and asked, with suspicion, "And what is going on here? Professor Snape? Were these students in detention?"

"Hardly," Snape said with cheerless conviviality. "I needed help for one of my experiments, help in the form of labourers that is. Draco volunteered, and talked his friends into volunteering as well." He glared at the twins. "As a result, two questionable students will now pass my course."

"Volunteered?" McGonagall asked. The suspicion would not fade. That was when Draco decided to say something stupid. Although he did not think it was stupid until after he had said it.

"Sure, Professor. We always like to help out whenever we can."

"Is that true?" McGonagall was eyeing each of them carefully. Draco was sure that she could see right through him. Then, the Potions Professor helped out.

"I didn't believe it either, Minerva, until they actually showed up."

McGonagall smiled but it did not make Draco feel better. "I must remember to tell the headmaster what conscientious students you are."

Draco risked a glance at Hermione who was glaring at him. Her look said it all.

Draco sighed.

* * *

It was the last week of May that Draco found himself in the common room. Professor McGonagall pointed him to the couch where Hermione was sitting with Fred and George. None of them looked happy.

"I know that the four of you volunteered to help Professor Snape out of the goodness of your hearts," McGonagall said with a straight face. "I've even mentioned this to Professor Dumbledore. As it is, I am asking the four of you to volunteer for a special project tomorrow night."

Draco wasn't the only who didn't think she was asking, but he wasn't half as clever as the Weasley twins when it came to thinking on their feet.

"We'd love to," George said too quickly.

"Anything to get out of Quidditch practice," Fred added, "Wood is driving all of us ragged."

"It was not my intention to supply you with an excuse to skip practice," McGonagall reminded them.

"Fred, George," Hermione said, as though McGonagall hadn't even spoken. "Wood says we're in a close match with the Slytherins and every bit of practice we can get in will help to improve our odds. I'm sure we can talk him into having an early practice so we would have time to help out. And we'll just have to put off our studying. There's still plenty of time before finals."

Fred nodded gravely. "Won't be the first time I've been too tired. We're still in, Professor."

Draco gave Hermione an approving look for how quickly she picked up on what Fred and George were doing. He wasn't surprised at the professor's next words.

"You've made your point, Miss Granger. And you are correct. The three of you have too much to do at this time to take on an extra task. But that still leaves you, Mister Malfoy. Do you volunteer?"

Draco paused as he tried to think but nothing came to mind. He glanced around the common room but all he saw were his housemates watching in curiosity, except for Potter and Longbottom arguing fiercely about something.

"Um, well . . . Is it something that I can help with by myself, or do you need other people?"

McGonagall gave a thin smile. "The more volunteers I have, the easier it will be. Your friend Justin is out of the infirmary. Is he well enough to help out?"

"I would have to ask." Draco frowned. McGonagall knew that they had been about the grounds over the weekend and that they were running more than they were walking.

"I'm sure he would be delighted to help. Shall I consider that a yes?"

Draco felt in a trap. All he could do was nod his head.

"Professor," Potter said as he and Longbottom walked up. "Neville and I couldn't help overhearing. As it is, we're both free tomorrow night. We would be happy to be of assistance."

McGonagall looked like she was about to laugh. "Would your desire to help have anything to do with past complaints to your parents?"

"In part," Longbottom answered. "We thought it wouldn't hurt for them to hear something positive about us."

Draco was tempted to add the words, "for a change," but held his tongue.

"You do understand," McGonagall emphasized, "that you will be sharing this task with Mister Malfoy. The three of you are not noted for working well together."

Potter scowled but tried to hide it as he said, "We will try, Professor. I promise that I, for one, will not start anything."

McGonagall gave him a thin smile for his efforts. "Very well. I will inform Hagrid that he will have four volunteers tomorrow night when he searches the Dark Forest."

Potter paled. Longbottom swallowed hard. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief while Fred kicked the leg of the couch and George muttered something under his breath. Draco grinned without realizing it. "Cool."

* * *

Justin was waiting by the main doors when Draco came down the stairs with Potter and Longbottom. It was already after eleven. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was following them with his perpetual scowl in place.

"Ready for the adventure, Draco?"

"As I'll ever be. And to think. They asked me to go into the forest."

"Don't be too happy," Filch cautioned as they went outside. "There are dangerous things out there in the woods. Things you don't even want to know about."

"He's right, Malfoy." Potter's voice was on edge. "My uncle told us about some of the things in there. It is dangerous."

"Can't be any more dangerous than riding a train," Draco said pointedly.

Justin snorted. "I don't believe you made a joke about that."

"It's all in the timing," Draco replied, sending Justin into a fit of laughter. He had almost calmed down when Longbottom said, "it wasn't that funny." Justin was laughing again and Draco joined him.

"Tha's what I like," Hagrid said cheerfully as they walked up. "Put on a smile an' everythin' seems brighter."

Filch looked into the skies and shook his head. "Hagrid, you're going into the Dark Forest, not the greenhouses."

"We'll be safe enough," Hagrid assured him. He showed the crossbow in his left hand.

Shaking his head, again, Filch turned and headed back to the castle.

"First," Hagrid said formally, "I want to thank all o' ye fer volunteerin', but the forest is no joke. So stay close an' keep yer eyes open. Let me know at once if ye see anythin' suspicious. I'll tell ye four. Somethin's out there tha's huntin' unicorns, an' I aim to find out what it is. Tha's why I asked fer help. The more eyes, the better."

He led them to the edge of the forest and pointed out a silvery puddle in the middle of a path. "Ye see that. Tha's unicorn blood. Somethin's been huntin' the poor things and I intend to find out what it is, maybe put a stop to it. This one was injured an' it may still be alive. We'll split up to cover more ground. But I'm warnin' ye, don't leave the path. An' if ye see anythin', let out a call at once."

Hagrid told Potter and Longbottom that he wouldn't let them go together. Then he pointed to Draco. "Neville, you an' him will go that way. Take Fang with ye, but you should know he's a coward. He'll try to run at the firs' sign of trouble."

"So," Draco said, "If Fang bolts, we take after him as fast as we can."

Hagrid let out a guffaw. "Tha's probably good sense, but I want either of ye to send out a signal if ye spot anythin'. Green sparks if ye spot the unicorn, an' red if there's any danger. I'll be there as quick as I can."

Draco and Neville practiced shooting sparks into the air until Hagrid was satisfied. Draco gave Justin a thumbs up, then took Fang's leash and followed Longbottom. Neither boy said anything while they followed the path.

For Draco, this was a new experience. He had been out in the countryside with Professor Sprout during his detentions but most of those consisted of climbing rocky crags or picking flowers in the meadows. This was the first time he had ever been in a forest. The moon was bright enough to see by, and the splashes of unicorn blood, which seemed to be rather frequent, gave off a soft glow of their own. Still, he spent most of his time staring about him at the overhead branches, at the gnarly trees that seemed to twist every which way. They kept walking in silence, listening carefully for any unusual noise, as the trees became thicker and the path almost impossible to follow. Then they reached the clearing.

Across the open area lay the unicorn. It looked like it was alive, but barely. As they peered through the dark, a hooded figure approached the fallen beast from the trees behind it. The figure stooped over the wound in the unicorn's side and began to drink the blood.

Fang let out a howl and broke free of his leash. The boarhound fled, no doubt to the safety of Hagrid's hut. As the figure looked up, Draco felt a sharp pain. His scar. He fell to his knees as he let out a scream. Longbottom's voice could be heard, shouting his name, but Draco couldn't answer. But Draco's training suddenly helped him. He couldn't stop the pain but he could muffle it enough so that he could open his eyes. The figure was moving toward Longbottom who had his wand drawn. The other boy was backing up while shouting a spell but it had no effect.

With an effort, Draco drew his own wand. He pointed it and called out, "Petrificus Totalus." It had an effect on the demon figure but not the one Draco wanted. It stopped moving toward Longbottom and turned toward Draco. Despite his weak mind shield, the pain increased. He vaguely heard Longbottom call out a spell of his own and the pain from Draco's scar eased slightly. Draco looked up in time to see a horse pass over his head and attack the creature.

The next thing Draco remembered was looking up at the man who was now carrying him. Longbottom was on the horse's back but the horse had no head. That was when he realized that it wasn't a man but a centaur. The man glanced at him briefly and smiled, telling him he was safe now. Draco let out a sigh and closed his eyes again.

Soft. Draco awakened to feel the comfort of a familiar bed. He knew he was in the infirmary. He opened his eyes. Madam Pomfrey came into view.

"You're awake."

"I'm back, Mum," Draco said softly. "Couldn't stay away."

Madam Pomfrey helped him sit up and gave him something to drink. The remnants of a headache quickly slipped away. "You've had another adventure."

"I saw a centaur. He was carrying me. Is he still around?"

"He gave you to Hagrid, who carried you up here. You should know that what he did was a very unusual thing. Centaurs rarely help humans, regardless of how much danger they're in. There's no need for you to say anything," She told him. "Dumbledore has asked, however, that we tell you a few things about what happened Thursday night."

"Thursday?"

"It's now Saturday. Almost time for lunch. And don't worry. Justin Finch Fletchley is coming by to see how you are. He can escort you to the Great Hall."

"I'm free to go? No two weeks of bed rest?"

"Not this time." Madam Pomfrey returned Draco's grin. "But before he arrives, I am supposed to inform you of certain things. Things that the Minister of Magic already knows."

Draco frowned. Something had happened. Something more serious than he had thought.

"The first thing you should know is that you probably saved Neville Longbottom's life when you cast that spell. You distracted Voldemort from his intended target."

Voldemort. Pomfrey said the word as though it left a bitter taste in her mouth. "We've had our suspicions that he was back but what Neville Longbottom told us confirms it."

Draco frowned. He knew about Voldemort. The man had killed his parents. And tried to kill him. Draco understood that when he revealed himself by casting the spell, the dark wizard decided to take care of unfinished business first. Madam Pomfrey was still talking. ". . . that he would drink unicorn blood shows how weak he still is."

"Unicorn blood?"

"Unicorn blood has unique properties. It will keep you alive even if you are on the verge of death. But drinking the blood also curses you so that you are, how to put this, only half alive. But you will still be alive."

Draco nodded.

"The Headmaster decided that you should know exactly what you encountered in the forest. Despite the misjudgements of others, it does directly involve you. Also, as though he would need to, The Minister has now permitted the staff to answer any questions you might have about your family."

"Madam Pomfrey, why would he let me ask about my parents? The Minister must know that Professor Snape's been talking to me about them for months."

"He might have guessed," Madam Pomfrey admitted, "but I think the reason is a subtle one. I may be wrong but I would make my own guess that the Minister is more interested in what questions you would ask than whether or not they should be answered." She turned and smiled as Draco was putting on his shirt. "Here's a special project for that clever mind of yours. What will you tell the Minister by not asking any questions at all?"

Draco paused in midbutton. He understood. By not asking any questions he will reveal that 'someone' had indeed answered them already. He caught himself and began dressing again. When he was done, he found himself being escorted from the infirmary.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley is waiting outside. And I've told him to make sure you eat a full meal. Even if you have to sit at his table in order for him to watch you."

* * *

"It was scary," Justin told him as they walked. "I was surprised to see the Centaur, but you were just . . . lying there in his arms. Neville Longbottom was on his back, shaking like a leaf."

"At least he din't pass out from fright."

"Who said that?"

"I figured him and Potter would say something like that."

Justin paused in his thoughts. "They haven't. Might not have thought of it yet. At least I haven't heard anything. Anyway, Hagrid tried to talk with that Centaur but all he would say was you two were safe and that Mars was bright."

Draco laughed. "Mars was bright? The planet?"

"Yeah. His exact words were, 'Mars is unusually bright tonight.' What's weird is we met a couple of Centaurs earlier, and that's all they would say, too. Hagrid told us that they never give a straight answer anyway. I guess they like to be mysterious."

Draco stopped as a sudden thought hit him. "Mars means war."

Justin looked at his friend. "You've thought of something?"

"Did anyone tell you about what happened?"

"Only that you were attacked by whatever killed the unicorn. That centaur, Firenze, drove it off and rescued the two of you." Justin frowned. His next question was asked slowly. "Who attacked you?"

A feeling of relief filled Draco as Justin asked that question. It was clear that Justin was close to figuring it out on his own. He had asked 'Who', instead of 'What'. In answer, Draco touched his scar. Justin nodded. He understood.

As they continued walking, Justin asked briefly, "Quirrell? The Stone?"

He had the right of it. Voldemort was near the school. It was a sure bet that Quirrell was trying to steal the stone and now they knew it wasn't for himself.

"Justin, I think it's time to think seriously about nicking a rock."

The Hufflepuff grinned. "You finally figured how to get past Fluffy?"

"No, but Hagrid must know how. He trained it."

"So ask him."

"Right." Draco grinned at the thought of walking up to Hagrid and asking.

"You could bribe him," Justin suggested with a laugh.

"That'll work," Draco added with a laugh of his own. "And what would I bribe him with?"

Both boys stopped in their tracks and looked at each other. They had both thought of the perfect thing to bribe Hagrid with. A Dragon's Egg. Only someone else had thought of it first.

Lunch was forgotten as the two raced outside and across the field to Hagrid's hut. Hagrid was sitting outside, whittling what looked like a flute, but he paused as he spied the two boys.

"Glad to see ye up an about," the giant said cheerfully as they ran up.

"Glad to be here," Draco admitted. "Hagrid, can I ask you about Norbert?"

Hagrid grinned. "Charlie Weasley sent me an owl. Norbert's fittin' in jus' fine."

"The man who gave you the egg. What did he look like?"

"Don' know. He kept his hood up. Not that unusual, though. Ye get all types at the Hogs Head."

Justin interrupted. "Did he ask you about Fluffy?"

The grin had become a frown. "Course he did. We talked about what kind of animals I took care of. An' ye don' run into many three-headed dogs. But I told 'im, the secret of takin' care of any animal is knowin' how to calm'im. Now, with Fluffy, all ye half ta do is play 'im some music an' he drops right off to sleep . . . I shouldn't o' told you that." Hagrid stood up. "Blasted fool that I am. I'd best let Dumbledore know right away what I did." He started to walk away then turned back. "Draco, Justin, Ye came ta me firs' off when ye thought o' that?"

"Ran as fast as we could," Justin admitted.

"Thanks. An' I mean that. After what happened in the woods, we'll need to take extra care." He paused. "The two of ye had lunch yet?"

The boys shook their heads.

"Then, c'mon. I'll walk ye back. 'specially you, Draco, just outa bed an' all."

"I am hungry," Draco admitted.

In the Great Hall, Justin made Draco sit at his table. As a result, he spent half of his time eating and the other half relating everything that had happened in the forest. But neither he nor Justin mentioned who the mysterious figure was.


	20. The Philosopher's Stone

**Chapter 20: The Philosophers Stone**

"Yer a good friend," Hagrid told Draco the next day as three children sat with him in his hut. "I tol' Dumbledore everythin', includin' how I learned my mistake. Exceptin' Norbert o' course. He says ye got a good head on yer shoulders."

Draco smiled self-consciously. He did not approach Hagrid for that reason. The giant's next sentence did give him a sense of relief. "Dumbledore said not to worry. Ain't no reason to change anythin' this late in the year. An' now that we know who we're dealin' with, there's extra protections around Hogwarts as well."

"We're glad we could help, Hagrid. I was worried you might get into trouble."

Justin voiced his agreement. Hermione even said she was proud of Draco for being so selfless. That caused the boy's grin to widen. Hermione knew very well what Draco's plans were.

As they walked back to the castle, Hermione was more specific. "That was clever how you found out how to get past Fluffy. And you're lucky Dumbledore didn't make any changes. It does improve your chances." She paused. "You finally decided to do it?"

"Yeah. I'm sure Quirrell's going to try, but if I can get to the stone first then he can't get it. Or use it."

"We decided stealing it would be fun, but now it's more of a necessity. Although I love to see the man's face when he finds out his treasure has already been taken. Are you in?"

Hermione hesitated. "Can't. Too much practice. Oliver Wood says we have a good chance of beating Slytherin, and if we win then we win the cup. Gryffindor might even take the house cup as well."

Justin nodded. "Good luck then. But if you do lose, make it close."

All three laughed. Because of the points, Gryffindor would take the Quidditch cup if they won. But Slytherin would take the cup if they won by at least twenty points. Hufflepuff's only chance at the cup was if Slytherin won by only ten points. No one in either house thought the game would be that close. And no one in the school honestly expected Gryffindor to win. While Hermione had become more comfortable riding a broom, there was no noticeable increase in her skill. She was still too hesitant to take chances, and that was what she needed to learn.

* * *

Exams interfered with Draco's plans. Between having to study and Filch's added efforts to keep all the students in line, there was hardly a chance to sneak out. It was the last day of exams, History, and Draco had the additional problem of his scar. It seemed to throb constantly. He could only be grateful that Professor Snape's lessons on building a shield had helped. Otherwise, he would have a constant headache.

"Still there?" Draco asked as Justin stopped by the Gryffindor common room. The boy nodded. Despite Dumbledore's assurances to Hagrid, Filch seemed to spend most of his time near the third floor corridor. Justin smiled. The caretaker seemed to finally relax his patrols. The most likely reason was that, with exams over, it would be an almost impossible task. Now, Draco and Justin would have to decide soon what they were going to do. And it was almost time for supper. But as he stepped out of the entranceway to join his friend, someone called his name.

"Malfoy."

Draco looked back through the open portrait. "Potter? What do you and Longbottom want?"

"Do you mind if we walk with you to the Great Hall?"

Draco was surprised. Not only that Potter and Longbottom would want to walk with him, but that Potter was even there. With the last match only three days away, he should have been down at the pitch with Hermione. As they began walking, Draco asked about that.

Potter explained tersely that Hermione needed to practice on her own, to test her own judgement. He also added that he gave her his personal broom, a Cleansweep Seven, to practice with. It was a faster broom than the one she had.

Justin snickered, commenting that Potter had finally had enough. Surprisingly, Potter grinned slightly and admitted that was also true.

"And why are we now such good chums?" Draco asked.

Longbottom answered. "We've been hearing stories about you, especially from Hufflepuff." He nodded at Justin. "Can we talk to you in private?"

"Us? Or me?"

"You."

Draco shook his head. "Justin and me are a team. Beside, I'll tell him later, anyway."

Longbottom grimaced. "Fine. Both of you, then."

Draco couldn't help but grin. Something was going on with those two, and Draco had upset their plans just a little. He couldn't help enjoying it. "After we eat. I know a place where we won't be interrupted."

So it happened that, after supper, the four boys were gathered in the same storage room where Draco had talked to Fred and George about a dragon.

"Whot?" Draco asked without ceremony.

"We need a thief." Potter spat out the last word to show his distaste.

Draco cast a quick glance at Justin. In turn, Justin gave him a slight nod to show he understood. There was only one thing either boy could think of to steal. They were being given extra help from an unexpected quarter.

"And what is it you want me to nick?"

Potter and Longbottom looked at each other. Longbottom spoke. Draco noted that Potter always seemed to be in charge but when it came to details it was always Longbottom. The boy started by stating that they did not trust Draco's mentor. He related a couple of incidents that they had witnessed. In one case, Potter was coming back late from a practice when he saw two figures near the edge of the forest. They looked like they were arguing. He watched from a distance until the two began walking back to Hogwarts. Potter recognized them as Snape and Quirrell.

Longbottom then told them about a chance encounter. They were heading back from detention when they spied Snape confronting Quirrell in one of the corridors. It was another argument, and it was almost over. Snape walked away after saying, "Remember which side you are on." The two waited a few minutes until they realized that Quirrell wasn't going to leave. They decided to bluff their way past him by pretending they had only come by. All they said to him was hello and, when Quirrell questioned them, that they were coming back from Flitwick's office.

"And one more," Longbottom told them. "I was walking back from Uncle Sirius's office, yesterday, when I heard Quirrell say he would do it. He walked out of a classroom without even seeing me. When I looked in, the classroom was empty but there was a door ajar on the other side of the room. I'm willing to wager that Snape was there, and that he finally forced Quirrell to help him."

"To do what," Draco asked ingenuously. "Is Uncle Severus going to throw me a surprise birthday party? My birthday's not until August so it would indeed be a surprise."

"He's still a git," Potter muttered.

"Harry," Longbottom hissed. "We talked about this. It's too important. We need him."

"Yeah," Justin said cheerfully. "But you haven't said what for. Only that you think Snape is responsible."

Potter spoke through clenched teeth. "There's something hidden in Hogwarts that Snape wants. And after what happened in the forest, we know why. We have to stop him from stealing it."

"By stealing it first?" Draco asked.

"We want to catch him in the act."

"The act of what?" Draco asked, sounding irritated.

Justin couldn't help himself. "Of stealing the Philosopher's Stone, obviously."

Draco had to admire Justin's timing. Both Potter and Longbottom looked as though they'd been hit. Longbottom recovered first.

"You know about that?"

Justin nodded. "Did my History paper on Nicholas Flamel. Got the idea from Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog Card. Flamel's the only one to have one of those stones, and the third floor corridor is out of bounds."

"Brilliant thinking, Holmes," Draco commented.

"Thank you, Watson," Justin returned. Then both boys watched the other two with expectation.

"I overheard my dad talking about it with Uncle Sirius during the Christmas holiday," Longbottom admitted.

"His way was easier," Draco told Justin.

"Can we get on with this?" Potter asked. His irritation wasn't feigned.

"And you need me, because?" Draco was smiling again.

"The door in the third floor corridor is locked. We know they can check our wands. And there might be wards."

"There probably are," Longbottom added.

"And you think I can unlock this door without magic? And then what? I sit back and let the two of you rush in and catch the real thief?" Draco knew he had found the flaw in their plan. "Do you know when this theft is planned? Or do you expect to receive an owl telling you all the details?"

"There are traps," Longbottom told him evenly. "Seven, we think. We know what two of them are, although I won't tell you how we found out. We may need further help when we get past the door."

"You didn't answer my question," Draco said pointedly. "How do you know when the theft is going to take place?"

"Dumbledore's gone," Potter said angrily. "We tried to tell him what we discovered but McGonagall said he'd been called away. An emergency, or so it seems."

"Snape's going to try to steal the stone tonight," Longbottom added. "We know it. And we don't have time to make a better plan."

Justin snickered. "And you want Draco's help? Why? You've caused him nothing but grief all year. You've even made a few remarks about me behind my back because I'm his friend." He pointed a finger at Potter when the other boy began to say something. "Don't deny it. Other people heard. You said those things loud enough so they would."

"He risked his life to save mine," Longbottom answered. There was no pride in his voice. "He was clearly in pain for some reason, but he still tried to help me. Draco, you made it obvious you don't side with You-Know-Who."

Draco was stunned. Longbottom was being honest. And humble, if that could be believed. He made his decision.

"We're in. We'll go tonight, as soon as it's late enough. We'll meet Justin here at midnight."

"Midnight's a good time," Justin noted. "And if we get there first, we steal it for ourselves. Is it a deal?"

Longbottom sighed with relief. "It's a deal."

Draco looked at Potter. On the spur of the moment, he held out his hand. "Is it a deal, Harry?" In the back of his mind, he wondered what he would do if Potter actually took his hand. Potter didn't. Potter didn't even say anything. He stood there with arms crossed. With a look of resignation he nodded his head.

* * *

It was half past eleven when Draco heard movement. He quickly and quietly slipped out of bed and changed from his pajamas into his jeans and shirt, socks then trainers. As Potter and Longbottom waited, he reached into his trunk for a rolled-up cloth that weighed heavily in his hand. Slipping it into his back pocket, he followed his two classmates out of the dorm and down the stairs. Seeing the common room was empty, they walked briskly across and out of the entrance. Glancing back, Draco noticed that the Pink Lady was sleeping in her portrait.

Without ceremony, they walked directly to the storage room where Justin was waiting. Now four, they proceeded to the third floor corridor. As they came closer, Draco saw that Longbottom was right about one thing. The door they were heading for was ajar. The Professor was making his attempt tonight.

"Won't be needing this," he said as he slapped his back pocket.

"We didn't need him after all." Potter said it almost as a curse.

"Sure you did," Draco said calmly. "Unless you also know what the first trap is."

"You know?" Longbottom was surprised.

"And how to get by it."

Justin interrupted any other questions. "Why don't we make our plans now. Share our knowledge."

"You start." Potter's statement showed his mistrust.

"Fine," Justin said smoothly. "First, you are completely wrong about Professor Snape. He suspected what Professor Quirrell was up to and was trying to dissuade him. If you are right about the last meeting between the two, it is clear that Quirrell lied."

"Snape tried to kill me," Potter hissed.

"No, he tried to expel you," Draco said with a light laugh. "He was the one chanting the countercurse during the Quidditch match. He may hate you, but he is not a murderer. Think about it, Potter. Why would he lie to me? I hate you as much as he does."

"The first trap," Longbottom suggested, more to stop the impending argument and the rising voices than anything else.

Draco smiled. "It's one of Hagrid's pet dogs. He guards a trap door." His voice dropped to a low whisper. "Listen. You can hear it growling."

Justin was already walking toward the door in question. As the other three approached, he opened the door, smiling widely. He was also making it a point not to look inside the room and thus ruin his cavalier face.

Draco let the other two look through the doorway. "Gentlemen, meet Fluffy."

As the dog bared three sets of teeth, Potter gasped. "And you know how to get past it?"

In answer, Draco stepped into the room. In a soft tenor voice, he began to sing:

_I was born on the winds / of a cold winter's morning / In the shoals of Atlantic's own tide._

_Oh, a pirate am I / And I strike without warning / In a name that's known far and wide._

Fluffy stopped growling at once. Draco knew he was succeeding when he noticed the tail wagging. By the time he had finished the first verse, the dog had sat down and was resting its heads on its paws, the middle head resting between.

_Oh, they call me Charles Vane / I cause terror and pain / From Bermuda to North Delaware._

_I've killed many's the man / And their blood's on my hands / As we steal o'er the waves / our flags as black as the grave / Grab your axes and guns. Be prepared._

Fluffy was now lying peacefully, his eyes closed and his breathing easy. Without stopping his song or taking his eyes off the dog, he motioned for the others to come in. As they came up to him, Draco pointed to the trap door. As he continued to sing, the others lifted the door open.

_Farewell to ye brown maids of Mexico._

After a short whispered discussion, Potter lowered himself and disappeared.

_Farewell to the plundering ways._

Longbottom was next. In seconds, he also disappeared. Justin was sitting with his feet over the opening.

_Farewell to the gold that I've called my own._

Justin listened to something from below. He turned to Draco and motioned for him to follow. He made a gesture to say that it was safe. Then he was gone.

_For I'm bound for Perdition today._

Draco stepped forward and dropped through the trap door.

* * *

Plop. That was the sound Draco made when he landed. It was a soft landing.

"Lumos," Justin called out. "Get out your wands. We need light."

Draco reacted immediately. He pulled his wand from his belt and cast the spell. Longbottom had done the same. Potter hadn't, and Draco saw why. They were all sitting on a giant plant that was quietly wrapping its tendrils around their legs. One of them had Potter's wand arm.

"It's Devil's Snare," Justin told them. "It hates light. Hold your wand near your legs to free them." He threw Potter a smile. "Don't worry, Harry. We won't leave you."

The light from three wands was sufficient for the plant to pull back. Because he was close enough, Draco held his wand near Potter's arm so that they would have four wands as quickly as possible. It was slower work than any of them wanted, but the wands did the trick. All four were free and out of reach of the plant.

Draco gave Justin a pat on the back. "Good thinking."

Justin snorted. "Too many detentions with the head of house." He looked pointedly at the other two. "There you are, past traps one and two. Now tell us what you know."

Potter looked to Longbottom. Longbottom nodded.

"One of the traps was made by Madam Hooch. See that door?" Potter pointed to the old wooden door that led to the next chamber. "She made a room full of flying keys, all of which are as fast as a snitch. We only have to catch the right one to open the door to the next trap."

"You said you knew of two," Justin prompted.

"Uncle Sirius made it. It's a verbal challenge. You have to figure out the correct phrase in order to go on."

"And you know this phrase."

"I know Uncle Sirius."

"Let's go, then."

Justin walked toward the door and opened it. A whirring sound could be heard at once. Justin turned back. "This is Madam' Hooch's room."

The four entered a wide chamber with a high roof above them. And flying around were hundreds of keys. Draco watched as Potter and Longbottom almost ran to the three brooms that were against one of the walls next to another wooden door. In seconds, they were airborne. Potter flew near them and hovered.

"Keep your eyes open. We're looking for an old-fashioned key, something that will fit the large lock on that door."

Draco looked at the remaining broom, then glance at Justin. Justin made a gesture to say 'be my guest'. With thanks, Draco mounted and flew off to help.

The first task was to find the key. After a while, Longbottom let out a shout. He pointed at an old silver key with a bent wing. And the chase was on. Draco was clearly the least skillful of the flyers, but Snape's extra lessons had helped. His worst fear was, that he would be in the way, were not realized. As it was, all three boys were flying as fast as they could yet the wily key always seemed to best them. At a key moment, no pun intended, it would twist sharply around a column or slip through one of the spaces made by arches that sprang from the tops of the columns to the ceiling.

The key had already played this particular trick a number of times. On this occasion, Draco was stretching his skills as he pursued the key. It twisted upward at a column and Draco followed. When they reached a point where the arch began, the key followed the curve. As Draco made a desperate grab, the key twisted right and flew through the narrow space too small even for a boy to follow.

A moment later, Potter gave a shout. He had seen Draco turn upward to follow the key and guessed correctly what was going to happen. When the key flew through the gap, he was there to catch it. With unchecked glee, he flew down toward the door as if he had won the Quidditch Cup all by himself. He had already opened the door by the time the others had landed.

* * *

It was a small room, a corridor really, that the four boys found themselves. The door they now faced had a pair of eyes. "This is the trap Uncle Sirius made," Potter told them. As Draco watched, the eyes blinked. There were other things on the door as well, in an arch below the eyes, from left to right, were: a moving picture showing someone helping others, small things such as picking up a dropped package, helping move a box, with words written underneath the picture, "THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN"; the roman numeral for two; an arrow pointing downward inside of a red circle; the letter, M.

Above and to the right of the left eye was another picture of a group of men going through an elaborate ceremony. Above and to the left of the right eye was a picture of a man, who looked like a glorified version of Professor Black. His hand was held out. It could be seen that someone was holding a wand over it.

One other thing that Draco noticed was that the door had no handle or key hole.

"This should be easy," Potter said to Longbottom. "All we have to do is figure out where to start. Top right?"

"Too easy. Knowing Uncle Sirius, it's probably one of the eyes." The eyes blinked.

"Which one?" Potter asked.

"The right one," Longbottom suggested.

"And we read everything in a clockwise manner," Potter concluded. Draco noticed the eyes blink again.

Longbottom started to read, "I am . . . red circle means no so the arrow really means up."

The eyes blinked.

"May I ask," Justin interrupted, "What is this?"

Potter didn't even sound annoyed when he explained. Probably because he was showing off. "Each picture or symbol represents a word. The entire circle represents a phrase. We need to recite the phrase correctly and the door will open into the next chamber."

Draco was watching the door. The eyes blinked. "You have to start with the left eye," he said. The eyes blinked.

Potter snorted. "And how would you know?"

"The eyes. Every time you've said something that's true, they've blinked. That's how you know you're right. Watch." Draco faced the door directly. "My name is Justin Finch-Fletchley." A pause. "My name is Draco Malfoy." The eyes blinked. "The left eye represents the first word of the phrase." The eyes blinked.

Draco turned to see Potter frowning. This was supposed to be his chance to show off and Draco had ruined it. Justin didn't help by saying, "Clever of you to figure that out, Holmes."

"Harry," Longbottom was saying in a low voice, warning him to keep his temper.

Draco couldn't help himself. "Swirlin' Merlin, Harry. I'm lucky I figured it out so fast."

Potter did the unexpected. He groaned.

"You didn't," Longbottom asked in disbelief, "just say, 'Swirlin Merlin'?"

"It from a book Madam Pomfrey gave me."

"Alacour Sim and the Lost Wizard."

"There's more than one book about him."

"Dozens," Potter answered, "and every wizard child is expected to read them and love them."

"What happens," Longbottom explained, "is that every wizard child learns that only a barmy git would say . . . that phrase."

"And you've proven Neville correct," Potter noted cheerfully.

"It's really that irritating?" Draco asked.

Potter and Longbottom nodded.

"Swirlin' Merlin. I better remember not to do that again."

Justin was the only one who thought it was funny.

"The first word is I," Longbottom said as he decided to ignore Draco. The eyes blinked. "Harry, any ideas about the second one?"

"No, but the third one, I think he's making an Unbreakable Vow. So that should be . . ."

"YES," Longbottom shouted. "Remember. The map your dad told us about."

Potter laughed. "That's right."

In unison the two said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Without noise, the door opened to let them into the next chamber. Longbottom walked through first and almost stopped in the doorway. "Harry, we've got a problem."

When the rest of them entered, they could all see what the problem was. Potter's comment was, "This has to be McGonagall's work."

"Is she good at chess?" Justin asked. That let Draco realize he was the only one who hadn't figured it out firsthand. They were looking out at a giant chessboard.

"Next trap's already sprung," Justin pointed out. Draco looked between the pieces to see the door on the other side of the chamber. It was open. And he could just see the troll's back. It must have attacked as soon as the door was opened and, when it fell, it fell face forward in front of the door, blocking it from closing.

"I'm not needed anymore, then," Draco commented

"Should have brought Weasley along," Longbottom bemoaned to Potter. "He'd have us through this in a thrice."

Potter turned his head. "Malfoy, how good are you?"

"Are you kidding? My best game involves a deck of cards. Only rich sots ever play chess."

Justin found himself the center of attention. "I wouldn't call myself a sot."

"Sorry," Draco muttered.

"Can you play?" Potter asked.

"I was only third board in my chess club," Justin said smugly. "That means that two people in the club were better than I was."

"Lucky for us," Longbottom said to Potter, then turned to Justin, "Let's find out if you're better than McGonagall."

"What do I do?" Justin asked.

"It's obvious," said as he pointed in front of them. "We play across, as pieces." He pointed to the King's square. "That's yours."

As Justin walked forward the King removed itself from the board.

"I'll just stand here in the corner," Draco said as he stepped onto the board. The towerlike piece also removed itself. Potter started to shout while Longbottom held him back, saying, "don't let him get to you."

"Whot?" Draco asked.

"You took the Rook's spot." Potter and Longbottom shook their heads at Draco's questioning frown. Potter even gave out a wry laugh as he took the spot two squares away. He received a frown from Longbottom for this. Longbotom took the square next to Draco as Justin asked if everyone was ready. Then he started to play.

As the pieces began to move, Draco dared to ask what a rook was. He was told that it moved in a straight line, as opposed to a bishop, which Potter was, which could move diagonally. Longbottom happily avoided explaining what he did by moving when Justin called on him.

Potter and Longbottom moved around the board as pieces disappeared. Draco had seen people playing wizard chess and knew about the pieces attacking each other, but the effect was different when the pieces were twice as tall as you were. Draco was quite happy to sit in his corner all alone, even after the other pieces had moved and he had a clear view of Justin. As he watched his friend ponder the next move, he saw him grin. Justin called out a move

Potter moved to a new square.

The black King's Knight moved to King's Bishop Two. Potter yelled something uncomplimentary at Justin. Justin called out that he knew what he was doing. Then he called, "Rook to Queen One." He paused. "Draco, you're supposed to move to the square next to me."

Embarrassed, Draco literally ran over to the Queen's square.

"Nice plan," Longbottom commented.

"What's going on?" Draco asked.

"See that." He pointed to the black Queen which was in a direct line with Draco. The Queen was moving out of the way. "The Queen wouldn't take you because then I could take the Queen, and now that leaves you a clear shot to the other end of the board to check the king. Do you see?" Justin was pointing with his hand where he wanted Draco to go. Idly, Draco noted that Justin wasn't paying attention to where he was pointing his hand.

"Look, Draco, I need Potter and Longbottom where they are, and I can't afford to lose them. But they're forked by the Knight."

"Forked?"

"The Knight can take either of them. But if I move you to check the King that makes it a triple fork and the Knight will take you because you're the highest ranking piece." Justin gestured with his hand again. "Do you understand?"

"Is it going to hurt?"

"Probably," Justin said, again gesturing with his hand and adding needlessly, "Do you understand?"

Draco saw the look in his friend's eyes and followed the hand. He wasn't pointing down the column, but his hand did point directly at the open door and the unconscious troll. Draco looked back at Justin, who whispered to him.

"I can't win, Draco. I'm not good enough."

"You said you were third board. The third best."

Justin grinned sheepishly. "Third out of three." As his friend frowned, he added, "Susan Pankhurst was second board. She was only nine but . . ."

"I'm ready," Draco shouted. He did not want to hear about Justin's first case of puppy love, at least not at this time.

Justin nodded. "Stop him, Draco." He shouted, "Rook to Queen Eight."

Draco was happy for small bits of luck. He had run to this square. The powers that be would not be surprised when he ran to the next square. And he did. Full force, barely slowing as he reached the seventh square. A sudden burst of speed sent him off the chessboard and running toward the open doorway. He heard a cacophony of noise behind him but dared not turn around. It wasn't that far but the noise was getting closer much faster than Draco expected, to the point that he dived through the doorway and on top of the troll.

Silence. Draco held his breath after getting one whiff of the troll. As he stood up, he turned around. Not only the Black pieces but White as well had come chasing after him. It seems nobody likes a cheater, he mused. His luck held and they stopped at the doorway. Stepping off of the troll, and still trying to hold his breath, he walked toward the next door. If Potter was right about seven traps, then this should be the last one before he got to the stone.

It was with no small relief that Draco opened the next door to find it unoccupied. But that meant that Quirrell already had the stone. Shrugging away the thought as something he couldn't do anything about, he approached the table in the middle of the chamber. It had seven bottles lined up in a row. In front of them was a plaque that was completely blank. As he looked at the plaque, flames sprang up in front of both the door he had entered by and the door he needed to get through.

This is Professor Snape's work, Draco thought. Only he would use potions. But the blank plaque? He rubbed his hands across the surface. There were rough spots on it. Remnants of etchings into the metal. Someone, Quirell was Draco's guess, had caused whatever was written to disappear. It was probably a riddle about which bottle to drink.

He stood in thought. He had no choice. He would have to try each bottle in turn and hope for the best. He grabbed the first bottle in the row and removed the stopper. And paused.

Justin had said, "Stop him."

"Stupid thought," Draco muttered to himself. "I'm off to steal the bloody stone and I'll steal it from him if I have to."

Justin had said, "Stop him."

Draco sat down the bottle. Justin had decided, on his own, that Draco should continue. Not them. Only one could go. And Justin chose Draco. For a moment Draco was at Hogsmeade Station surrounded by people. It was the start of the Christmas holiday. Justin was saying, "We remember." Someone tried to kill him. Someone who killed his parents. Someone whom Quirrell was working for.

In a fit of anger, Draco grabbed the bottle he had sat down and flung it against the wall. The anger faded just as quickly into surprise. "I'd best hope that's not the one I need," he said to himself with an embarrassed laugh. He grabbed the bottle from the other end of the row. Removing the stopper, he ran his palm around the rim. Mick had shown him to do that. "Gets rid of the last bloke's spit," he explained. And Draco paused.

The rim was dry.

He put that bottle down and grabbed another. Dry. And the next. Dry. And the fourth. Draco smiled. Even the stopper had a touch of moisture on it. The small bottle he was holding was the one. He would stake his life on it. A chuckle. He was staking his life on it.

He drank the contents and swallowed. It felt like ice was instantly coursing through his body. The flames covering the far door turned black. Draco took a deep breath. Then he stepped forward to meet his fate.

* * *

As Draco stepped through the flames, his scar was hurting him again but he could deal with the pain. Then he looked around him. He found himself at the top of a flight of stairs. At the bottom, in an open area stood Professor Quirrell, turban and all. He was staring into a large ornate mirror. It was time to announce his presence.

"Ello, Guvnor."

Quirrell turned around. "Master Malfoy? I must admit you are the last person I expected to see. I heard your little group behind me and decided to delay you. I see it didn't work."

Draco smiled as if to say he wasn't slowed at all. "I ditched Potter an' them back at the chessboard. Would you believe it? Even me own pieces came after me."

Quirrell arched an eyebrow. "You managed to cheat at chess. I am impressed. And need I ask what brought you here?"

"Whot you think? The Philosophers Stone."

"You want the Philosopher's Stone?"

"'course I do. Who wouldn't. All the bread and 'oney in the world and all the reason an' rhyme to spend it in."

Quirrell snorted. "How colloquial. What happened to your fine speaking voice?"

"Same whot 'appened to yer stutter, Professor."

"Touche. We both are not what we seem."

Draco started down the stairs. "So, did ya nick it yet or do I still 'ave a chance."

"Not yet." Quirrell was smiling. "Perhaps you might like to help me. A partnership, per se." As Draco reached the bottom, Quirrell directed him to the mirror. "It is an interesting problem. When I look in the mirror, I see myself holding the stone. But I don't know how to get it."

"Break the mirror?"

"And if that isn't the correct solution? No, I don't think it would be that easy. Dumbledore did this, and he likes to think he has a subtle touch."

"I'd try breakin' the mirror anyway. Probably could still use one o' the pieces."

"Why don't you look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Draco looked. His first surprise was that he didn't see Professor Quirrell's reflection. His second was that he didn't see his own. Instead he saw . . . "Father?"

Quirrell's voice expressed concern. "What is it? What do you see?"

"Me Dad. He's 'oldin' the stone an' 'e's shakin' 'is 'ead at me."

"Your father? You don't see yourself?"

"Nor you."

Draco glared at the figure in the mirror. How dare he be there and not here. And taunting with the stone. As though that mattered anymore. He didn't have any family. Why would he need money. And immortality? Suddenly it seemed a future of eternal boredom. The only thing he would want that stone for would be to keep the bastard next to him from getting it.

The figure in the mirror smiled. A satisfied look. He flipped the stone in his hand, catching deftly and in one swift movement put it in a pocket of his robes. As Draco stared, he felt something press against his leg, inside his pocket. He felt with his hand. Something hard. It was the stone!

"Something's happened," Quirrell said suddenly. "What is it? What are you seeing?"

"Whot? Oh, nuthin'. Me Dad's just laughin' at me."

Another voice was suddenly heard. "He lies. He has the stone."

Quirrell turned to Draco with an angry scowl. He ignored Draco's confused look. "Where is it? Give it to me."

Draco took a step away from the Professor. "I t'ought we was partners? Why can't I keep it?"

"You do have it." Quirrell's voice had a sense of triumph. "And if we are partners, why didn't you tell me you had the stone?"

"Ya din't gimme no chance. Ya told me to tell ya whot I saw." Despite his efforts, Draco could hear the tremble in his voice.

Quirrell gave the boy a wry smile. "Then show me the stone."

Carefully, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled the stone out, holding it in the palm of his hands.

"Give it to me," Quirrell demanded as he reached for the stone.

"NO." Draco tried to sound as snotty as possible. As he flicked the stone into the air and behind him, he said, "I think I'll keep it. I nicked it." He turned his back on Quirrell and deftly caught the stone. Shoving it into his pocket, he ran for the staircase.

"INCARCEROUS."

Draco found himself suddenly tied up by ropes with only his head exposed. With his feet suddenly tied together he pitched forward. Despite his efforts to hold his head back, he still hit the floor with his face. He heard a crunch. Now his scar and his nose both hurt. His first words were, "Bloody 'ell."

"Such language from a child," Quirrell admonished. He kicked the ropes hard, and Draco was rolled over onto his back. Then the disembodied voice spoke again. "I want to talk to him."

Quirrell's look change from arrogance to fear. "But, Master. You're not strong enough."

"I'm strong enough for this."

Draco turned his head and spit out a mouthful of blood. After a few breaths he turned back to look at the DADA Professor. The turban had been completely unraveled. Quirrell took it off and turned around. Draco gasped and almost choked as he swallowed some blood. Instead of the back of the Professor's head, Draco saw a face, pale with red eyes and slits for a nose.

"Do you see what I've become? A parasite, having to live off another human being. And all because of you. But now you can help me. With the stone I can make a new body."

Draco turned his head and spit. "An' why should I help you? You killed my parents. You tried to kill me . . ." The blood dripping from inside his nose into his mouth caused him to stop.

"Arrogance. Lucius Malfoy sought to kill me and take my place. And I had honored him above all my servants. I even forgave him his wife's bloodline after she, too, swore to serve me. But the bitch betrayed me as well." Voldemort paused. "It is useless talking to you. Kill him, Quirrell, and get the stone."

Quirrell turned around and stepped toward Draco. He knelt and extended his hands to squeeze Draco's throat. As he touched Draco, he began to yell. Draco also felt the pain rack his entire body. His scar burned as though on fire. In a last act of defiance, he spit in the man's face his newest mouthful of blood.

Quirrell screamed as he let go, and as he did the pain in Draco's scar ebbed. The boy looked up and saw the Professor. Red burning welts were on his hands and the skin on his face blistered wherever Draco's blood had touched it. There was a wrenching scream and Quirrell pitched forward and lay there no more than three feet from where Draco lay. Something about Draco made it painful for the man to touch him. In spitting on him, Draco had in fact killed the man.

The boy turned his head to spit. As he did, he noticed he was able to look at the mirror. He noted with curiosity that this time he didn't even see his father.

"Finite Incantatum."

A new voice. It was Dumbledore. But the figure that stepped into view was not him. It was Professor Snape. He knelt next to the boy and smiled as he caressed Draco's cheek.

"How do you feel?"

"Like . . ."

* * *

Author's Note and Disclaimer:

The song that Draco sings is "The Death of Charles Vane" by Charlie Zahm from the album: A Summer's Morning Rare, BMI, 2006.

In case anyone is curious, a snippet of the song can be heard at:

www DOT fortissimo DOT org/mp3/jukebox DOT asp

Click on: Charlie Zahm

Click on: 13 A summer's Morning Rare

Click on: 4 The Death of Charles Vane


	21. The End

A/N: I would like to note that all spelling errors have been corrected for the last two chapters. At least the ones that have been pointed out. I would also like to point out that this is the last chapter of the story. Therefore, let me honestly thank everyone who has been following this story, and the reviewers for letting me know what it is they've enjoyed. For example, Artimas-Chan points out in Chapter Nineteen, "Unfortunately, no mistakes were glaringly obvious."

For those who are interested, I am writing book two, albeit slowly. I am hoping to start posting in June. I should have a chance to get some rest by then. I hate work.

**Chapter 21: The End**

Soft. Draco took a deep breath. "Bloody hell."

A familiar voice shouted, "He's awake, Madam Pomfrey."

"Hermione?" Draco said lazily, "you came by to watch me?"

"Actually, I came here on my own."

Draco opened his eyes and looked over. Hermione was in the bed next to him. "Whot happened?"

Hermione beamed. "I caught the snitch. We won."

"Brilliant . . . but why are you here?"

"I was three feet above the ground heading downward when I caught it. Well, not directly downward. I'm not that stupid. But it was a fairly steep angle. I would estimate about forty degrees. I was told I rolled halfway across the pitch before I finally stopped."

Draco was amazed at how calmly his friend was relating this. "But . . . but . . . what if you'd died?"

"Oh, we would have still won. Ron Weasley told me there was a precedent." A long pause. "The look on your face is priceless."

Draco was speechless.

"Drink this." Madam Pomfrey was holding a glass filled with a purple liquid in front of Draco. The boy drank and the last of his headache disappeared. He handed the glass back with his thanks.

"How long?" he asked.

"The End of the Year Feast is tomorrow," Madam Pomfrey told him. "How are you feeling? There are students who want to visit. If you think it's too much for you I can tell them to come back later."

Draco's eyes widened. Students wanted to visit him! Then he remembered. He wasn't the only one in the infirmary. "I wouldn't want to disappoint Hermione."

He was right. A half dozen people walked in. The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. As one, they walked over to Hermione's bed. But two of them stood between Hermione and Draco. And faced the wrong way.

"Did she tell you?" Fred asked.

"Yeah. You won. Congratulations."

"Only the Quidditch cup," George told him.

Draco frowned, "but I was told we get loads of house points if we win. If you win."

"150," Fred pointed out. "Which makes up for what certain people lost for us earlier this year."

Draco nodded. He was one of those people. "Slytherin wins the House Cup?"

"By twelve points."

"Sorry."

"Don't be," George said cheerfully. "We're blaming Neville. After all, you and Harry lost your points in a fair fight."

"NO?" Hermione shouted. Hands pushed Fred and George apart. "You cheated at chess?" she accused.

"Whot? No. That was Justin. I was just a pawn in his scheme."

"A rook," Hermione corrected, but she was adamant. "You can't cheat at chess. It's impossible."

Draco smirked. "And you can't play Quidditch. It's a given."

Hermione returned the smirk. "I concede the point. You can cheat at anything."

"Only if I have to."

One of the chasers, Angelina Johnson, spoke up, "If you're that good, can you steal us the House Cup?"

When Draco put on a thoughtful look, everyone started laughing.

He looked up. "What's it worth?"

Everyone stopped laughing. Oliver Wood spoke up. "Twenty Galleons."

"Do you have the money?"

"I do."

"I'll give it a go, then." Draco gestured to the bed he was in. "Under the circumstances I can't promise anything."

Everyone was laughing again.

* * *

Draco was surprised at the number of guests. Ron Weasley came by. He was once again in love with Hermione. What boy in his right mind wouldn't be in love with the girl who won the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor. Ron was also delighted that Draco asked him what happened at the match. He described everything in detail.

Justin came by as soon as he heard Draco was awake. He told all about the whispering campaign that was going on. Potter and Longbottom were furious that Draco cheated and left them stuck behind the chessboard. They started the rumours that Draco was trying to steal the Stone for himself. So Justin started his own rumours.

Draco was not trying to steal the Stone for himself. He and Justin were partners. And he had no idea why Potter and Longbottom were surprised they had been used. After all the disparaging remarks they had made. And the fact that they were trying to use Draco. Justin pointed out that everyone liked his rumour better. It didn't have the vindictiveness that the other one did.

The rumours also helped explain how everyone knew so much about what had happened.

* * *

Hermione was gone. She had been pronounced cured and had left shortly after Crabbe and Goyle had stopped by. They had managed to pass all of their classes. "Will wonders never cease," Hermione exclaimed as she left the infirmary.

Draco ate his meal in the quiet of the evening. He was alone, but Madam Pomfrey was nearby and would know at once if he needed any help. It was a simple meal but he couldn't bring himself to eat most of it, and so it sat there before him as he lay propped up on his pillow. Now that he was alone, his mind began wandering over recent events, over what he had done.

"Not hungry?" Dumbledore asked from the entrance. "After an adventure like yours, most people would be famished." He walked over to the quiet boy and sat in the chair next to his bed. As an afterthought, he waved his hand. The food disappeared. "How do you feel?"

Draco looked over with hard eyes. "I killed him."

"Professor Quirrell? Yes, in a sense you did, although I would argue Voldemort killed him. Had the man chosen a better master, or none at all, he would not have been in that position." He put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "I know you don't want a philosophical answer, but I thought you would be curious to know why you were able to kill him, simply by spitting in his face?"

Draco nodded. The thought had not occurred to him.

"Your mother died protecting you. Do you know that?"

"Professor Snape told me."

"And when she died, she used old magic to cast a protection on you against Voldemort. Because Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort, he was affected by this magic as well. His every contact with you caused him pain. In the end, the power within you killed him. And do you know what this power is?" Draco shook his head. "It's called love."

Draco simply looked at the headmaster. "Love didn't keep her alive."

"No. Because of her love for you, she sacrificed her life." Dumbledore's voice became a whisper. "Her choice was that you should live."

Draco wiped a tear that suddenly came. "I'll remember."

After a pause, Dumbledore added, "If there is anything you would like to know, I would be more than happy to tell you."

Draco did think of something. He asked his question sheepishly. "The stone. Where is it?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm sorry, Draco. We couldn't let you keep it. It wasn't yours to begin with."

The boy blushed lightly. "I'm curious though, Sir, how did I get it?"

"Ah, one of my more clever ideas, or so I thought. Only someone who wanted the stone, but did not want to use, could retrieve it. I never thought of a situation where that person would be standing next to someone who would do anything to get the stone." He held his hand up. "Even a great plan has its flaw."

"Then that Mirror . . ." Draco paused, trying to think of how to ask his question.

"It is called the Mirror of Erised. In its normal state, the mirror shows nothing more or less than a person's deepest darkest desires."

"But . . . when I looked in it the first time . . ."

"You saw yourself holding the Philosophers Stone," Dumbledore replied.

"No, I didn't. I mean, I saw the stone, but my father was holding it."

Dumbledore's eyebrow raised. "If I may ask, you said the first time. I assume there was a second time. What did you see then?"

Draco held his head down. "Um, nothing."

"I understand. You would want to keep that a secret."

"No, Sir. That's what I saw. No reflection. Only an empty room. What does that mean?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought for a while. "I will be honest. I don't know. I would hazard a guess that you were too emotionally drained to have any desire at that point, much less any other feelings. As far as seeing your father the first time you looked in the mirror, all I can say is that your mother was not the only one who loved you. And the reflection you saw could be a reflection of that fact. But I may be wrong. I can only guess at the meanings."

"It sounded like a good guess, Sir."

"Are you tired yet? I know, now that supper is over, you will be having one more visitor." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "According to some rumours, you regularly refer to him as 'Uncle Severus'."

Draco gave a short laugh. "It was only that once. I wanted to ride Potter's goat a bit."

"Laugh all you want. Most of the students believe this particular rumour." As he stood up, Dumbledore told him, "There is a precedent, you know. If you don't believe me, ask Professor Black."

"Sir," Draco asked quickly, "Hagrid told me that Potter, um,"

"Because Sirius Black is his godfather?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco rushed out his question. "IsProfessorSnapemygodfather?"

A look of pain seemed to pass over the headmaster's face, so quickly that Draco thought it might have been his imagination.

"He isn't," Draco said, his disappointment clear.

"That position fell to another of your father's friends. And that man . . . let us say that he is not here."

Draco took the hint and kept quiet. Inside him, he hated Potter that much more. He still had his parents. He even had his godfather/uncle. He had his family.

* * *

"Am I too late to visit?" Severus Snape asked Madam Pomfrey as he walked into the infirmary. She pointed him over to Draco's bed. Snape scowled as Draco barely looked over at him.

"It's those rumours that Potter has been telling. That's why you're sad. I'll give that boy so many detentions he'll have to spend an extra year at Hogwarts just to finish them all. And YOU." Draco looked up when the Professor yelled. "You were foolish enough to believe them. How is that possible?"

Draco was forced to smile. "Sorry, Professor. I was thinking about my parents."

The Professor's scowl became a frown as he sat. "And now you've ruined my good mood as well."

"I found out I don't have a godfather, either. Not really. I asked the headmaster and . . . He didn't want to talk about it. Like it gave him bad memories."

Snape risked a smile. "And you feel that you're alone? With me here? With Madam Pomfrey here? Why don't we summon Hagrid? Then you can feel alone in a crowded room. A crowded room of people who care about you." His smile grew when he saw Draco's lips quiver. "To be honest, if Hagrid were in a room, it would be crowded even if he were by himself."

Draco snorted. "Thanks, Professor. I needed a laugh."

Snape gave him a scowl. "And that is another thing. Everyone in this school knows that you don't call me that in private." His voice became soft. "I would have no objection, Draco, if it was proven true."

Draco was filled with mixed emotions. Throughout the year he had often wished he could do that very thing, to be that intimate with this particular teacher, and now he had permission. But the words couldn't come. Instead, tears came.

"Have I done something wrong?" the professor asked.

Madam Pomfrey answered. "You did something right." She sat down on the bed opposite from Snape. She wiped Draco's cheek. "You reminded someone that he does have a family, even if it isn't the normal sort. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco smiled through his tears. Words suddenly came easy. "Got that right, Mum. Now I got me an uncle. Ain't that so, Uncle Severus?"

Snape groaned. "And you were doing so well with your vocabulary." He then chuckled as Madam Pomfrey held a tissue to Draco's nose and told him to blow. Once the boy's cheeks were dry again, Snape cast a glance at Madam Pomfrey. "May I ask you about something, in private?"

"Whot?" Draco noted the looks being passed between the two adults.

Madam Pomfrey smiled politely. "I'm sorry." She turned to Draco. "Professor . . . Change that. Uncle Severus asked if you could spend the summer holiday with him."

"You said no?" Draco asked, worried.

"The Minister disapproved. If I had said yes, you would have had a new legal guardian."

Draco nodded. "Probably Professor Black. Just to make sure I can't do anything."

"I did make a suggestion of my own, which was acceptable." Madam Pomfrey smiled now that she had Draco's interest. "It's because you were raised as a muggle. The Minister likes the idea of limiting your association with magic. It concerns the Finch-Fletchelys."

Draco's eyes lit up. "They invited me?"

"No. But Justin's father has a recent acquaintance, a businessman. It is a small business, mind you, and the man has been blessed with a new addition to the family. He also suffers the lose of an employee as his wife now tends to the new addition. The Minister agreed to let us apprentice you for the next two months."

Draco groaned. He was going to be put to work as an office boy or something. But he would have someone to spend his free time with, if he had any. He looked up cautiously at his guardian. "I can still see Justin? You said this bloke was a mate of his dad."

"That is up to Justin. But you will need to know certain things. Your employer doesn't know about magic, nor are you to tell him. And as it is school policy that you may not use magic while you are away from Hogwarts you shouldn't be worried that you may accidentally reveal yourself."

"Sounds like fun," Draco said sarcastically.

"More fun than spending the summer with Professor Black?"

Draco looked up, startled. "Whot?"

"That was the Minister's personal suggestion. And you should know that it was Professor Black's strong support of my idea that convinced the Minister."

Madam Pomfrey stood up. "I'll give you fifteen minutes. Then it's bedtime for you."

Draco nodded. He and Professor Snape spent the rest of the time talking about what happened below the third floor corridor. They both were surprised at the accuracy of Justin's 'rumours'. The Hufflepuff boy even made it a point to be fair to both sides in his description of events. When Madam Pomfrey told them it was time, Uncle Severus promised to stop by again after lunch.

* * *

"I am going to the feast, at least?" Draco asked as he sat up in bed eating his lunch.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," came the reprimand. "And yes you are. The headmaster insisted." Madam Pomfrey looked at her charge. "You can get up and get dressed after you finish. I want to make sure you have no problems being on your feet. Otherwise, headmaster or no, I'm keeping you here. DON'T GULP YOUR FOOD."

"I'm done," Draco said cheerfully less than a minute later.

Madam Pomfrey pointed. "Shower first before you get dressed. And use plenty of soap. Or else."

Draco nodded. For all of her friendliness and bedside manner, she demanded to be listened to in her domain. If he were to argue with her, he might end up going starkers to the Great Hall just so she could make her point. Not that he would argue. He knew better.

It was almost two. In a handful of hours, Draco would be free of the infirmary. Hagrid had come by and made a special request. Justin had told him that Draco sang a song to Fluffy. With Madam Pomfrey also listening, Draco sang the full song about Charles Vane, who had spent years attacking other ships for fun and profit. Of how he was marooned on an island by his crew, then rescued by a passing ship. Instead of being freed, he was recognized by a former friend and turned over to the British in Jamaica for the reward. And there he was hung for his crimes.

"You would know a pirate song," Madam Pomfrey said half in jest.

At half past three, Professor Snape entered the infirmary, a smile forcing its way to his face when the boy by the window called out, "Uncle".

"This is a short visit, I'm afraid," the professor said. "I was told you haven't seen your grades. It should be no surprise that you received an O for potions."

"An O?"

"No one ever told you about grades? O, E, A, and P. Outstanding, Excellent, Adequate and Poor." Snape's voice became a stage whisper. "There are other letters but you don't want to know what they mean."

"I do know what they mean," Draco said smugly, "And I know O's the best." He added hopefully, "was that the only one?"

"You have two of them."

Draco smiled, "McGonagall or Sprout?"

Snape shook his head. "E from both."

"Flitwick?"

"Also E."

The boy frowned. "Black?"

Snape smiled triumphantly. "Not that he wanted to, mind you. He gave O's to all four boys who went after the Philosopher's Stone. He had to include you and your friend, Justin, in order to give his two favorite nephews the top grade as well."

Draco laughed. "And you failed them for potions?"

"Believe it or not, Draco, I was fair. I was perhaps stricter with them but in the end I was forced to give them excellent grades. They earned them, barely I admit, but they did earn them. Miss Granger, on the other hand, clearly earned her O as well."

"And Justin?" Draco was hoping.

"He doesn't have your flair, Draco. And because of his friendship I may have been more lenient. He also barely earned his grade. He received Outstanding."

"It's because of me you gave it to him, isn't it?"

Snape shook his head. "Your friend, Justin, had three Outstanding marks. The third one was in Herbology."

Draco was laughing. "He told me. Too many detentions." He stopped when he looked up at the professor. Snape was giving him a strange look. As though he was going to say or do something that he would not normally do.

"I did want to ask you one question, Draco. The potions chamber. Professor Quirrell had deliberately erased the riddle that would let you know which bottle to drink from."

"Yeah, he heard us. We musta reached the chessboard just after he finished off the troll. He said he tried to slow us down."

Snape nodded, the look still on his face. "How did you manage to find the right potion."

Draco gave a laugh. "It were easy. I looked for the bottle he drank out of."

The look changed briefly to one of surprise. "It was that simple?"

Draco nodded his head but he couldn't resist looking smug. His smug look faded as Professor Snape turned his back without saying a word. A stunned look as the professor walked toward the door. Then surprise, as Snape turned around. The man spoke in a toneless almost forced voiced.

"For his creative use of logic in a crisis, I award Draco Malfoy twenty points."

The stunned look returned, and when Draco looked up, the potions master was gone. It dawned on Draco what had happened. "Bugger all. He gave it away. Just for me."

* * *

"Ready, mate," Justin asked as he arrived at the infirmary.

"If he isn't, we'll leave without him," Hermione said as she followed him in.

"No, we won't," Fred and George said from behind her, "if he's not ready, we'll carry him down."

"You heard the news?" Draco asked.

"What news?" Justin asked in return. When no one else said anything, Draco knew they didn't know. And the schemer in him didn't want to reveal it.

"Black gave me an O for defense. Never thought that would happen."

"Congratulations," Hermione said graciously. "I earned mine the hard way. By studying."

Draco's jaw dropped open. "Yeah, I only had to face down Voldemort."

"As though you haven't done that before."

Draco nodded. "That was good, Hermione. I almost fell for it."

"If I didn't make a joke about it, I'd . . ." Hermione suddenly hugged him. "I was scared. That's why I tried so hard in the match. After all the faith you had in me, I couldn't let you down. And when I woke up you were next to me. You . . ."

Draco heard Hermione muffle a sob. "Yeah, in me usual position, flat on me back an' passed out. Got me a good future as a tippler. 'Course I shoudda done it last week. Wouldn't 'ave 'ad to take them exams."

Most of the talk on the way to the Great Hall was about grades, but Fred and George would make remarks about the Quidditch match and their star Seeker. Draco thought they were deliberately making an effort to keep Hermione cheerful.

"What's that," Draco asked innocently as he saw a crowd of people standing around.

"It's the points board," Hermione said. "It must have changed."

Fred's eyes lit up. "Maybe one of the Slytherins . . ."

George had a better idea. "OY, ANGELINA."

The girl in question looked over. George shrugged his hands. Angelina pointed at herself and nodded. George nodded back. "We've got to see this. She says we won the House Cup."

Four pairs of eyes suddenly turned to look at Draco.

"Oh, did I mention? I managed to get twenty points. Can't reveal my sources, you understand."

"You didn't?" Hermione asked in disbelief. She ran to the entrance to the Great Hall and looked in. "You really did?"

The boys followed her into the hall. Scarlet and Gold banners hung from the ceiling and, at the far end, behind the teachers table, the Gryffindor lion stood proud. Draco saw ahead of them, Oliver Wood staring at the banners. He couldn't help himself. He walked up and tapped the older boy's arm and waited for Wood to look at him.

"So, Ollie, got me money?"

* * *

The feast was over. The night had passed and dawn had come. Students went down to the Great Hall for their final meal at school, then returned to do whatever packing remained. Draco had a hard time leaving. He managed to visit Madam Pomfrey. They exchanged hugs. He visited Hagrid. He tried to shake hands. Hagrid insisted on hugging him. He visited Professor Snape.

"Sir?"

"You should be packing."

"Already done."

"And you should be saying your goodbyes."

"Already done. Saved the best for last."

"Enjoy your holiday, Draco."

"Uncle Severus." A pause. "You didn't have too. The house points, I mean."

Professor Snape pointed to a seat near to him. "Sit down. If you miss the train, I'll take you to London myself." Draco sat. Snape knelt in front of him so that they were at eye level.

"I talked to Professor Dumbledore after I left you the night before the feast. He told me about the mirror. He told me that you saw nothing. That mirror shows your strongest desire, regardless of how weak it is. But to have no desire? Not even to despair and thus desire death? To be nothing?

"I gave you those points, Draco, because you needed them, not because you earned them. I gave up a Seventh straight year of having the best house because I believe in you." A wry smile. "Now, regardless of how you look at it, you are responsible for your house's victory. You must always remember this. You are someone special. Even if others don't see it. Even if they deny it. You ARE special, and you have to remember that."

Professor Snape then gave Draco his equivalent of a hug. He squeezed Draco's hand. A minute later, Draco was reminded of the time and went rushing off, almost knocking Hermione down as he came out of Snape's office. Together they made their way up from the dungeons, and had to race outside to the coaches as one of the teachers called out for the last stragglers.

The ride seemed to go by too quickly. The funny horses that now pulled the coach seemed to fly along. The train seemed to travel much too fast. Draco wanted to hold on to this time for one more minute, one more hour, one more day. Then they were on the platform waiting for an old wizard to let them know when they could cross over to Kings Cross Station. Justin said they should all go at once and give the muggles a good fright. Draco secretly wished they would never be allowed to go. He knew what was on the other side. A strange man waiting for him to help out in his shop, run for the mail, mop the floors, free labor for two months.

Then they had to go, Hermione behind him, Justin ahead. Two friends he would miss. They were on the platform and making their way to the entrance. Justin called out when he saw his father, motioning for his friend to follow. Hermione wished them luck and turned toward where her own parents were waiting.

"DRAGON."

Draco looked up for the first time. Mick? Mick was the small businessman? He walked up in surprise. Why hadn't they told him? The answer came to him too quickly. Maybe to pay him back for being such a pain all year?

"Wotcha, Mick? Janice?"

Janice beamed at him. "Wotcha, Draco. Want ya to meet someone. Cheryl, meet your Uncle Dragon." Draco looked at the small baby in Janice's hand. So delicate. So fragile. He looked up at Janice and said as seriously as he could manage. "I ain't ever changin' 'er nappies if that's what yer thinkin'."


End file.
